You and I Collide
by thepotatojuggler
Summary: World War One changed the lives of millions of people. Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson were no different. Meeting in a horrifying situation, the two men fight to stay alive in the trenches and find each other when the war ends. Rated M for future chapters.
1. Prologue

**Author's note: Hey guys, this our first attempt at fanfiction. Please let us know what you think, reviews here or on tumblr our ask is always open. The first chapter should be up in the next couple days and we will let you know then what the regular posting schedule will be.**

** Our tumblr is ijugglepotatoes . tumblr . com, if you want to check that out we will be posting song lists for the story and maps and other pictures. Our personal tumblrs are linked through the author's page and description, this one is strictly for our fanfiction related posting.**

**Thanks to our wonderful beta ( throwingbeamsofbrightlight . tumblr . com ). She does far too much for us, including making us baked goods at 1 am for my class. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own glee, or anything else you recognize. If I did, it would have to be on HBO from all the nudity and gay sex.**

* * *

**July 8****th****, 1916 - Bromley, United Kingdom**

Blaine was eighteen when he joined the army. He was fresh faced and eager, if a little naïve, as he observed the growing line of giddy, bright-eyed soldiers. They were just as young and brimming with enthusiasm as him, making the crowd itself seem to jitter. They were all ungodly loud, laughing and smacking each other in the arms. Blaine wanted to be with them, his body humming with this addictive elation that called to everyone in possession of a Y-chromosome but the weak whimpers that escaped his mother kept him in place. For a brief moment he felt resentment towards her and that pathetic sensation that seemed to follow her, clinging thickly to everything that got too close.

His mother's face was skinny, almost haggard; her skin paper thin and white but tightly pulled over her high cheek bones and pointed jaw. At one point it would have been appropriate to say that she had been attractive, with her dark, glossy hair and washed-out blue eyes but now she just looked tired and splotchy under the heat and humidity of the summer sun. She flashed him a tightly-pressed and watery smile, her thin, cracked lips almost disappearing altogether. Blaine rolled his eyes but obediently allowed her to fix the collar of his freshly pressed uniform once again. The combination of the direct light of the sun and the chaffing that came from the rough pull of the stiff, foreign material had caused Blaine's neck to turn a bright shade of red.

"Oh Blaine, sweetheart, you will be careful, right?"

She wasn't really looking for a response, just throwing the sentiment out in order to comfort herself over the decisions being made by her two boys.

His mother's pale hands moved down to smooth out the lapels and straighten the buttons of his coat, much to his frustration. Blaine's eyes moved back to the vibrating mass of bodies, while she started to mutter quietly, trying to straighten his regimental pin. It was embarrassing to have her fuss over him, especially in public, at a moment like this, where he's supposed to be trying to reaffirm his male status.

Cooper was standing next to their father, a smirk plucking at his thin lips as he watched a cluster of attractive girls saunter by. The girls giggled behind their hands as they watched all the boys trying to impress them with their new colours. They paused momentarily to look Cooper up and down and then once again dissolved into fits of giggles.

Their father, an older man, wrinkled and weathered from a hard life of manual labour, was grinning. Something akin to pride shined in his dark eyes, which were half hidden by his thick eyebrows. He reached up a calloused hand to pat his oldest son's shoulder. Cooper smiled wide enough to show off his straight teeth, which were only slightly tobacco stained, basking in the attention being placed on him. Blaine watched Cooper turn to their father, and mutter an answer to something he'd been asked. Their father chuckled and patted his arm once again.

"Come on now, woman. You coddle the boy too much!" The senior Anderson called. His voice was gruff and abrupt.

William Anderson was not someone who would have been considered nice, even when in the best of his moods. Rather his gnarled form, though still considerably tall, seemed to fit his personality quite well. The woman stopped clutching at her youngest boy's shoulders immediately. She flashed another watery smile before reaching up one last time to smooth down a stray curl, that hadn't been slicked down by the heavy dose of product he had used that morning. Blaine stepped back, his new heavy boots crushing tiny pebbles underfoot, as he pushed her arm away with a very dry look. He really hated when people touched his hair, after all it had taken him almost an hour to get it this way.

The expression that crossed his mother's face made Blaine instantly regret his actions. She pulled back lowering her gaze to where she was clutching her skeletal hands against her chest, as if he had actually smacked them away, while her thin shoulders quivered slightly. A rush of white hot guilt settled low in his stomach. He reached out, arm's wide, and pulled her into a quick, tight embrace. He pressed his cheek against the side of her head, taking in the last of the hint of the smell of home.

"I'll be fine, mother. You shouldn't worry so much," He whispered, and finally pulled back letting his hands fall so he could lightly hold her knobby elbows. "We'll be back before you know it."

She sniffed, nodding to the statement but not looking up at her son, rather she continued to stare down at her clasped hands. He squeezed her arms once more before letting them drop completely to his sides.

"Yeah. That's if they don't finish up before we get there." Cooper chuckled, and walked forward as if to throw an arm around his brother's shoulders, but instead pulled him tight to his side in a loose head lock looking not even the slightest bit perturbed of his younger sibling's flailing limbs.

"That's right. My boy's going to end this war. Take out all those Huns himself." Their father boosted, leaning back on his heels and shoving his large hands into the frayed pockets of his trousers. His eyes still rested on his eldest son; his pride and joy. Blaine rolled his eyes, lips pressed tight as he finally succeeded in throwing his brother's arm off. Cooper's smile lessened.

"Well not only me. Blaine's going to take a few out too. Got my back, right, little brother?"

His response was a loud snort. Blaine straightened himself out. Tugging on the ends of his coat, Blaine purposely avoided having to look at the disappointed expression on his father's face. He didn't need to see it; he could feel the heavy weight settle on his shoulders.

"You will take care of him." Their mother broke the thick silence.

She moved in again. Only this time she had reached up to cup Cooper's squared jaw. Blaine bit back a scathing remark about not being a child and needing a nanny. There really was no point in upsetting her even more then he already had.

"Of course. They won't be able to pry me off of this ugly sucker." Cooper laughed at his own joke having thrown his arm around Blaine again. He had leaned down to press a light kiss against their mother's cheek.

"Be careful." She whimpered.

* * *

**May 14****th**** 1917 - Düsseldorf, Germany**

As Kurt walked out of the bakery a warm summer breeze hit his face. The shops were busy with their many patrons, mostly women and children. The few men that wandered the streets wore the stone gray uniforms of the German Army. They looked dashing in their dress uniforms; the well-tailored gray pants and jacket fit snuggly showing off the men's strong builds. The jacket's red piping at the buttons and sleeves brought a sense of regency to the whole ensemble. It would only be a matter of days until Kurt would be lucky enough to finally wear the uniform himself.

He wandered up the street in the direction of his father's shop, determined to make him take a break. Kurt had noticed that his father had become more tired as the war dragged on. It was caused partly by his protective nature and partly by his annoyance that "the damn war is taking too long!" Kurt just wanted things to calm so that his father could relax. Naturally Kurt had taken it upon himself to ensure that his father didn't overwork himself with all of the machines that he was being forced to fix. However, as he soon turned eighteen the job would have to be handed off to one of his sisters. At eighteen, he was required to join the military and he had no intention of refusing.

Lost in thought, Kurt didn't notice that he was being corralled by a few boys not much older than himself. It wasn't until he walked right into one of the taller boys that it dawned on him what was happening. Seconds later, the one he'd walked into had spun him around and grabbed his arms and covered his mouth, as another grabbed his legs. They moved him quickly into an alley, in which another two boys waited looking at Kurt menacingly. The boy holding Kurt's legs dropped them to the ground and moved to join the others, while the last boy continued holding Kurt tightly.

"Well if it isn't Lady Hummel," one smirked "It's been a while since we've seen you. Why is that Hummel? You avoiding us or something?"

Kurt avoided their eyes; he always avoided their eyes. Truthfully, he had been avoiding them altogether. As soon as he caught any trace of them, he would change his direction. He was even willing to walk a much longer distance to get to his destination. It was worth it to not be injured.

Kurt had always hoped that his days of being harassed were over once he was done with his schooling, but, god, he was so wrong. If anything, now that he was no longer under the watchful eye of the teachers, the abuse had gotten worse. They would corner him when he was alone no matter the time of day, push him around and rough him up a bit.

Kurt hated that he was stupid enough to get distracted. He knew that this abuse would never stop. As if they read his mind, one of them punched him hard in the gut, taking Kurt's breath away.

"Are you listening, schwanzlutscher?" he yelled right into Kurt's ear causing him to flinch. "Or do I need to remind you that hinterlader, like you need to listen when the real men talk!"

He emphasized his point by punching Kurt in the gut again, causing a groan to escape Kurt's lips and his legs to buckle from the pain. Kurt let the Neanderthal that was keeping him from escaping hold him up and let his body go limp.

Kurt hated felling weak like this, but he knew that if he tried to fight back things would only get worse. So he let them call him names and hit him, hoping they would soon get bored. Then he could curl up in a ball until the pain subsided, and go home and sleep it off.

"To think you're going to be soldier soon," another boy said "you won't even make it five minutes out in the trenches."

"Forget five minutes, he won't last two" another said, as his companions laughed.

It was then that the one holding him spoke, "Not that it's any loss to us; it just means there's one less tunte polluting our streets." Kurt heard the rest of them laugh, but he hung his head and did his best to ignore the poisonous words around him.

Kurt's head was jerked up suddenly, as his eyes zeroed in on the fist that was going to hit him again. In preparation for the hit Kurt closed his eyes, and waited for the pain.

"HEY!"

It happened faster than Kurt could even comprehend; he was suddenly dropped to the ground, he closed his eyes and curled up into a tight ball. He heard the boys run, and before he knew it his savior was at his side assessing the damage, hands moving carefully over Kurt's torso.

"How many times have I told you that you need to tell me when you are going out?"

Sighing, Kurt opened his eyes to find his oldest and dearest friend looking at him with concern in his deep hazel eyes.

"Seriously, Noah, I don't need you to protect me, we aren't in school anymore."

"It shouldn't matter." Noah said, "Your still my best friend, and I am dating your sister; we are basically family."

"Okay, first, we are not family until you marry Lena and second, I really don't need a babysitter, I'll be eighteen in less than a two weeks, and when that happens I'll be joining the army so all of this will stop."

Noah looked at Kurt, eyes wide with disbelief. "Do you really think those arschlöcher will stop just because you become a soldier? If anything, it gives them a reason to beat you up and not get in shit for doing it!"

Kurt glared at Noah, his anger growing not only because of the pain in his stomach but also because Kurt was terrified that Noah was right.

"You okay to walk?" Noah asked. Kurt nodded, feeling too winded to speak and let Noah pull him up.

Taking a few steps, Noah stopped and gathered the parcels Kurt had dropped while still being careful to keep Kurt steady. The two of them walked in silence towards the family shop. The only sounds coming from their careful footfalls on the cobbled street.

When the shop was finally in view Kurt glanced up at Noah and noticed his brows were drawn together in thought. Kurt couldn't help but smile. Noah really was the nicest friend that anyone could ask for; he had always stood up for Kurt and they had an amazing understanding of each other. For instance, Kurt's sexuality was a topic that the two of them never mentioned outside of the house, but behind closed doors Noah would tease Kurt for hours about the boys they may have seen that day and how Kurt should make a move.

Noah was Kurt's oldest friend; they had grown up together. According to Kurt's father, after Mr. Puckerman left his young family, his wife and two small children were left with nowhere to live and no money to their name. The family wandered the streets for weeks looking for a place that would let them stay. It was a rainy September day when they took refuge under the awning of the shop. It was this day that the Puckerman family moved into the downstairs apartment. Mrs. Puckerman would pay rent in the form of cooking meals and helping care for Burt Hummel's three children. It was from that day onward that both Kurt and Noah became the best of friends, the two of them very thankful that they were no longer the only boy in their respective families.

"Thanks, Noah." Kurt muttered as they finally reached their destination.

Noah was snapped from his thoughts and as he looked at Kurt, a smile bloomed on his face, "Don't worry about it, you would have done the same for me."

Kurt snorted, "Oh yeah, because I have the same alarmingly terrifying presence that you have to chase away those idiots."

"Don't worry; we'll work on that when we get you home." Noah chuckled.

When they reached the shop Noah reached out to grab the handle but before he could pull the door open a loud crash came from inside. Glancing quickly at one another they rushed inside as quickly as the two of them could with Noah still supporting the majority of Kurt's weight. As they moved into the open area of the cluttered shop, they saw the unmoving form of Burt Hummel lying on the stone floor.

* * *

**July 8****th****, 1916 - Bromley, United Kingdom**

"Be careful."

Those had been the last words their mother had whimpered before they pulled away. Cooper practically dragged his brother towards the mass of new recruits. He had paused momentarily, yanking Blaine to an abrupt stop that resulted in a choked gasp, in order to let another group of flighty girls drift past. He flashed them one of those infamous Anderson smiles. They giggled and continued on their way.

When they had gotten close enough to their new comrades and far enough from their parents prying eyes, Cooper pulled them to another stop, letting his heavy arm drop. Secretly Blaine already missed the weighty warm feeling.

"I got you something." Cooper's gaze shifted about the crowd before he reached inside of his spotless coat and pulled out a thin rectangular book. It was shiny brown, oil skinned, with no real telling features and thin flap of skin that reached around to hold it shut. Blaine could only give him a confused look.

"What is it, Coop?"

The elder rolled his eyes as if to say 'my brother's a giant dolt', shoving the book into the younger's outstretched hands. Blaine took it, looking it over quickly, running his fingers across its smooth surface before opening it and facing the first blank page.

"It's a journal." Blaine stated, turning it over again.

Cooper huffed in that way that automatically told Blaine he had just said something extremely stupid. It was odd hearing it coming from Cooper; usually it was Blaine who did it. In fact he had it so perfected that it had become second nature. He didn't say anything about it though; instead he looked up at his brother.

"But -" He started, before being cut off by a wave of Cooper's hand. There was a strange expression on his brother's face. It scared him. It looked too solemn and sad to belong there.

"I know dad thinks your writings are silly … but … just don't give up on them. You're good. Really, really good, you just never give yourself enough credit." Cooper sounded dry. Blaine watched him turn away and swallow thickly. "I just thought that you could use it while we're over there."

Blaine never thought of himself as being overly sentimental, but his fingers tightened around the notebook and he pulled it close to his chest. He was afraid that he might cry. Instead Cooper turned back and smiled having reached out to dig his fingers into the slick mass of Blaine's curly, dark hair ruffling it with a loud cackle.

The chase that ensued was quite humorous. Boy's jostling them into their fold, laughing and urging Blaine on in his quest for retribution, some going as far as stepping out and trying to detain the older Anderson. They were all a hub of eager energy and romantic notions.

They were all so fucked.

* * *

**August 10****th**** 1917 - Düsseldorf, Germany**

"Will you stop fussing over me already?" Burt Hummel grumbled.

"Dad you had a heart attack!" Kurt exclaimed, "You need to rest and let us take care of everything. Noah is doing an excellent job watching over the shop. You have nothing to worry about."

"You gave us a serious scare, Dad." Lena agreed, as she finished tying Anna's hair into braids. She moved to do the younger Puckerman girl's hair into the same style. "And anyways, Noah looks so handsome when he's working on the cars, so take your time getting better."

Kurt rolled his eyes, "What Lena means to say is-"

"Yeah, I got it." Burt cut him off.

Anna moved from her spot on the floor to sit with their father. She wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. "We don't want to lose you, Daddy, so please just do as the doctor asked."

Sighing in defeat Burt looked at the faces of his three children.

"Fine, I'll rest but I refuse to be bedridden; it's almost been three months, the doctor says I need to move more now. So I will." He looked in Kurt's direction as he said the last part.

Kurt shook his head as he fought a smile, "And you say I'm stubborn."

"You are. You're a Hummel. It's in ou-"

"I know dad, it's in our blood." Finally letting his smile break free.

The living room grew into a comfortable silence, which allowed Kurt to curl up on the chesterfield with a book, _The Canterbury Tales _today.

It was hours later, after Noah had returned from the shop and ushered the girls to bed, that Kurt and Burt sat at the kitchen table looking over the accounting papers from the shop.

Kurt held up the latest numbers from the shop looking distraught "Dad, there is no way we can pay these bills right now. We just don't have the money."

Burt shuffled through the papers running one hand across his balding head "We'll figure it out, Kurt." He heaved a sigh. "It's just been harder on us since I can't work. We'll figure it out."

Kurt watched as his father scanned over all the papers his hand going back to his head to scratch. Making up his mind, Kurt took what little bit of courage he had and spoke quietly "You do know there is a very easy way to fix this-"

"No."

Kurt took a steadying breath. "Dad, it's an easy way to get the money we need, and you know it."

Burt stopped and looked straight into Kurt's eyes. "I don't want my son going off to war. You don't have to get yourself killed. We'll find a way."

Kurt looked away from his father's hard gaze, looking at the stained wood of the table. "Dad," Kurt whispered, "You know it is the only way. We've been making sure that the boys get paid, and we keep forgetting that we have bills to pay too. We've been living on almost nothing for weeks." Glancing up quickly to look at his father, he saw that his father's head was buried in his hands. Kurt grabbed the arm closest to him, giving it a squeeze. "I know you are trying to protect us, especially me, but you have to think about this rationally. It's the only way otherwise we'll lose everything."

"I know," Burt whispered miserably. "But I'd rather lose the house and the shop than you."

Kurt's breath caught when he saw tears in his father's eyes. "I don't want to be the one to basically sign your death warrant. You're my son Kurt, I'm supposed to look out for you and take care of you-"

"And you are, Dad." Kurt said trying to keep his own tears from falling. "You are, and you always have, but now it's time I look out for you."

Burt tried to interrupt but Kurt stopped him. "I want to help you."

It was then that Burt's tears started to fall. "I can't lose you too, Kurt. I can't."

Kurt couldn't control his tears any longer, and a sob broke from him. Burt moved around the table and gathered Kurt onto a tight hug, holding his son as they both let tears fall. Kurt's shoulders were shaking and his father stroked his back in soothing circles. It took the men a few minutes to calm down, wiping their eyes and sniffling.

"I need you to trust me, Dad. I need you to trust that I'm doing this for the right reasons. You know I had planned on joining before you got sick, but then I had to stay to help look after you and the girls." Kurt sighed "I'm not just doing this for you, but for me too…"

Burt looked at Kurt, searching his eyes, "Are you sure about this? You know you can die-"

"I know." Kurt hesitated "I know I could die but for some reason I feel that I need to do this, don't ask me why- I just know. You can't even stop me. I'm of age; I don't need your permission. But I would like your blessing."

Kurt watched the emotions flit across his father's face before he spoke quietly, looking at his hands in his lap. "I keep forgetting you are not a little boy anymore, you're a man now." Burt let out a soft chuckle, and then turned his gaze to his son, a look of determination cross his father's features. "I don't like this, not at all, but if you want my blessing you have it."

Kurt pulled Burt into a tight hug. "Thank you, Dad." Kurt mumbled into his father's shoulder.

Kurt pulled away quickly. "I give you my word that I will fight to get back to you alive." Kurt said, his determination growing. "I promise I'll make you proud."

Surprise flashed across Burt's face "I have always been proud of you," Burt wrapped Kurt in another tight hug. "Don't you ever think that I am not proud of you. Now you remember that you just promised to fight to come back to us; you better keep your word."

Kurt relaxed into his father's strong, warm arms. "I promise Dad, I'll find some way to get back to you."

"Good, I love you, Kurt." Burt murmured into Kurt's ear squeezing him a bit tighter, "I love you so much, Kiddo."

Kurt couldn't stop his shoulders from shaking as violent sobs wracked his body. "I love you too Dad, I love you too."


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: ****First off, please watch the dates in this chapter, as there is some time jumping, which may be confusing.**

**Thanks to everyone who favourited and alerted this story. You guys are awesome. Remember, reviews are love.**

**If you want the full experience of the story, remember to check out our tumblr ( ijugglepotatoes . tumblr . com ). There are pictures, maps, song lists, etc. As well, we will be posting more info about some side characters that won't make it into the story.**

**Also, note that a lot of the descriptions of War come from first hand accounts from soldiers in WWI. **

**Warnings for minor character death. **

**Enjoy the chapter!**

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**Disclaimer: Characters from Glee do obviously not belong to us. **

* * *

**German Training Camp, Outside Luxemburg**

**February 19****th****, 1918**

After six months of grueling physical training, Kurt was finally ready to go out into the trenches. Kurt and the other men were lined up in the chilly February wind listening as their commander spoke.

Kurt fidgeted restlessly as he tried to listen, but he wanted out of the camp so badly. He wanted to fight. He wanted to prove to those Neanderthals back home that he wasn't a coward, but a soldier. It was in the trenches that he could prove to them he was a man.

A sudden movement to the right caught Kurt's attention. A runner was approaching the commander; interrupting what Kurt was sure would be a rousing speech if he had been paying any attention. The runner rummaged in his bag to produce an official looking piece of paper which he handed to the commander.

The commander read over the letter quickly, and then looked up at all the men standing before him.

"Are any of you soldiers fluent in English or French? Hands up, if you are." He paused, waiting for a response from the soldiers.

Hesitantly, Kurt raised his hand glancing around to see if any others did the same. He was alone.

"Step forward, Soldier!" The officer called.

Kurt instantly snapped out of his thoughts as he stamped his right foot on the ground. He marched out of formation, rifle slung over his shoulder. Seconds later, he was standing in front of the commander at full attention.

He assessed Kurt with his dark eyes before he spoke again, "What's your name soldier?"

"Sir, Soldier Kurt Hummel, Sir."

"And you can understand both languages, spoken and written?"

"Sir, Yes Sir."

Nodding, the Commander looked straight into Kurt's eyes. "Good, Congratulations Soldier you have been promoted to Gereiter. You will be working in translation until further notice."

Kurt just blinked at the Commander, mouth gaping slightly in astonishment. He was getting promoted and he hadn't even seen the trench yet.

The rest of that day was a blur as Kurt was brought out to his new outpost, where he learned that he was replacing a man that had died.

* * *

**Tidworth, United Kingdom**

**August 11****th****, 1916**

Blaine had actually enjoyed the initial training at the local army camp, near Tidworth, even if they were forced into some pretty bizarre situations, which were supposedly to help the men become accustomed to trench life. Mud had quickly become a mainstay of life. It filled their boots and had become encrusted onto their too-thin, second-hand, khaki uniforms until they all looked a murky, dark brown. Eventually it had covered the floors of every training building they were schooled in. Blaine wouldn't be happier than if he never saw another speck of the damn shit, ever again.

He'd taken up smoking around that time too, much to the chagrin of Cooper, who would shoot him disapproving glances from time to time when he caught Blaine hanging around the large group at the back doors of the mess. Whenever Blaine would start to light up, Cooper would be there to point accusingly at his little brother, shouting out Blaine's name before slumping away through the thick pools of mud towards their shared tent. Shared, mainly because when one storm had gotten particularly bad, it had been Cooper's single pup tent that went sliding down into the ditch. It would take two weeks to dig the damn thing out and even then the damage would have been irreversible, so it had to be scrapped.

In the four months of training things had started to change between the two brothers. Blaine had somehow become popular. He'd put on fifteen pounds of hard-earned muscle but was still 5'8 and had not grown any since leaving home, making him the third shortest in his platoon. Cooper had been placed into another regiment entirely and the only time they got to bond was late at night when both rolled into their cramped quarters. However, Blaine had taken the separation as an opportunity to make friends without his brother breathing down his neck.

Brett Holmes was the first boy Blaine had meet that never compared the two brothers, and had never messed up his hair. Whether this was because he simply didn't care or had never picked up on the fact that Cooper and Blaine were brothers and Blaine's hair was eternally shellacked into position, Blaine never knew. The boy seemed permanently cemented in a dazed state, always flowing in and out of reality at different moments of the day. Sometimes Blaine wondered if he even knew that he was signed up for the army or if to him this seemed like a very long and rigorous camping trip. It really didn't matter all that much in the end because Brett was the man with the connections. He could get you anything for the right price. His well-formed connections into the military hierarchy were obviously suspect, but if he was willing to keep Blaine well stocked with cigarettes, well then Blaine was willing to keep his mouth shut.

Around this time he'd also met Jeff Sterling, a tall blond kid with a slight over bite to his mouth which made all his wide smiles consist mainly of large front teeth. Blaine had liked him immediately and they'd become fast friends.

* * *

**German Training Camp, Outside Luxemburg**

**September 2****nd****, 1918**

For the next six months, Kurt found himself reading and deciphering the English and French commands that were sent to him; he would rewrite them in his own perfectly flowing German script, before he would send one of the runners to the command post with his findings. It was easy work for Kurt, something he could do in his sleep and honestly, he loved it.

Kurt knew he was one of the lucky ones. He saw hundreds of men being brought to the field hospital, which was only a few yards from his post. Kurt could hear the sounds of the shells going off in the distance at all times of the day; some days were worse than others. It was those days that hordes of soldiers were brought into the hospital, most of whom never left.

It was a rainy September morning when Kurt was pulled from his station and told that he was finally going to the trenches. According to his captain, it was time to see if he was truly a man. It was time to make his country and family proud. He was to go kill the men that oppressed the German people. Kurt was a soldier now and he was meant to kill. Something he had never dreamed of doing, even in his worst nightmares.

* * *

**British 4****th**** Army**

**October 22****nd****, 1916**

Blaine didn't actually join the fighting until the fall of that year. He was attached to an unusually small relief company which consisted of only two platoons, neither of which contained his brother. Luckily, however, he found himself in the company of Jeff, Brett and his continued supply of quality fags.

They were attached to the British 4th army as new recruits and shipped out the countryside of France, literally. This marked the first time Blaine had ever actually been on a ship. This one, though only a small troopship attached to a short distance convoy had been fitted with all the fixings, even if the ship itself outdated them by at least a decade. There was a single smoke stack from which a large cloud of grey smoke trailed and a gun torrent had been mounted onto the bow while white painted wooden life boats dangled over the side; the whole thing had been painted a deep grey as to blend in with the murky water it floated along in. Rewa was scripted perfectly along the back in large block letters. Blaine was both excited and nervous about the whole thing and spent most of the trip reassuring himself that there were no icebergs in the English channel.

They landed in the wee hours of the morning and everyone seemed either entirely too tired to celebrate the fact that they were finally going to see some action or were too excited to stop fidgeting about. Blaine was the former; having spent the last few hours sweating over the possibility of drowning, he found the train ride inland comforting and had slept a few hours nestled against Brett's arm, as the other boy smoked.

It took full day to finally reach their destination. First they were dropped off at a small town over run with yammering soldiers and beautiful French women but the further they continued inwards on foot things seemed to change, and this left an unsettling feeling in the pit of Blaine's stomach. The faces of nurses became more haggard and stoic and some men, covered head to toe in filth hung in packs chain smoking but never looking up to acknowledge the newbies. They finally stopped their marching once they reached the region of Pas-de-Calais, close the Belgian boarder. It was a horrible place in which it seemed to rain more than in England. It caused the earth to become soggy and hard to walk on.

The ground was like a thick dark soup, which flooded into Blaine's stiff boots and made him grimace with disgust every time his steps squished on the inside. His helmet was second hand, slightly too big and dented in many places. Its heavy presence on his head made him uncomfortable and he wanted to remove it but was strictly warned about such an action by a very large and intimidating man, who spoke only broken English. The regiment had only just got there and Blaine was already sick for the sights and smells of home. By the time they made it to the extensive trench system near the Somme River, Blaine had realized he was in way over his head.

In the distance he could hear the shells coming over with a defining roar, they shook the ground and made the boys' knees shake together. For the first time since joining Blaine found that he was truly scared, ready-to-wet-himself terrified.

To Blaine, this obviously wasn't France any more. It was hell. This is what hell must look like. With its sad raped landscape, bogged down by overflows of thick mud mixed with rain water, where everything refused to live. Groups of waterlogged men would huddle along the sides, trying to light damp cigarettes with damp matches, looking at them with hollowed eyes ringed with dark shadows. One smiled at Blaine. He was shorter with his helmet dipped down slightly to the right in a parody of gentlemanly fashions, a drooping fag sitting between twisted lips. He tried lighting it with a small silver lighter held in one hand, but was hindered by the fact that he only had the one arm. Where the other would have been was a bloody stump wrapped with could have been the sleeve of someone else's uniform.

Blaine tried not to vomit.

* * *

**Battle of Epehy, German Trench**

**September 18****th****, 1918**

The rain was miserable; they had been marching 4 days before Kurt and the rest of his battalion entered the trenches at the Somme, and it looked like the rain wasn't going to let up anytime soon.

Kurt sat, among the rest of the men milling around, with his back against the trench wall, his head bowed, watching the rain run off the brim of his helmet. He no longer tried to stop the cold rain from soaking into his uniform. It was a battle he knew he wouldn't win.

Kurt's feet were soaked and his hands were freezing but he kept hold of his mouser rifle as if it was the only thing keeping him on this earth. The cold metal bit at his skin, keeping his mind awake, not that he could sleep if he tried. His mind lingered on the thought that he was soon going to be running over the trench to his imminent doom. Kurt knew he should be thinking positively about his abilities, but he couldn't kid himself any more than he could kid his superiors. Kurt was a horrible shot; it would be a miracle if he hit something stationary, let alone a moving target that was living and breathing. That was the part that Kurt dreaded more than anything; in order to survive he would have to kill, and Kurt wasn't a killer.

Yet here he was, sitting in a trench, waiting for the command to kill as many Englishmen as he could. Something he secretly refused to do, he couldn't take a life no matter how much he wanted to live. Kurt knew that if he was to survive this war, he would never be able to live with himself knowing he killed another man. It was in that moment, on the muddy ground of the trench, that Kurt decided he would give his life instead to save the life of someone he would never even know. He knew he was signing his own death warrant but he couldn't think of any other way to avoid the inevitable; he chose to be a martyr.

Kurt grinned at that thought of himself, of all people, being a martyr. It was a preposterous idea, he was just a coward, but at least he knew that he was doing the right thing for himself. Kurt knew his family would be distraught, but he also knew that they would respect his decision, had he been able to tell them. He would live his last moments knowing he was a compassionate man, stupid yes, but compassionate.

A whistle cut Kurt's thoughts short. His superior officers were walking along the muddy boards of the trench, talking in hushed voices as they looked over the reinforcements. There were only sixty men in Kurt's battalion, but he knew that there were others sent to this trench as well. They were to take back the land that had been lost to the British and advance their territory if possible. The captains had made this sound like an easy feat, but the soldiers knew it would be anything but.

Kurt watched as the three, surprisingly dry men walked into better view of him and his comrades. The men sported trimmed facial hair and large bellies, which Kurt knew was from the actual meals they were eating. They came to a stop along the walk way only a few men from Kurt's left. The men along the trench walls looked up at the three officers waiting for the reason as to why they were even out of their cozy little alcove.

"Gentlemen, welcome to the trenches," the largest of the men bellowed "I have been informed that the majority of you have not seen battle. That will change soon enough. You are all here to do one thing, gentleman, and that is to liberate Germany." The man paused to look at the men around him. "Men, we are here to kill our enemies so that we can have a better future. I know many of you are scared. While that is expected, you must fight your fear so that we can prevail. May God be with you all." Every eye was on the man as he turned on his heal and walked away, the men that accompanied him following close behind.

Kurt closed his eyes, and wished he were anywhere but in this dirty trench, waiting for his death. The rest of the men went back to what they were doing before, whether that be sleeping, smoking, or chatting with the others.

Kurt tried to sleep but his mind wouldn't stop wandering. He was scared; he didn't want to die and he didn't want to kill. Kurt fidgeted, running his fingers along the cold barrel of his rifle, to keep his mind distracted from the terror and panic starting to build.

A strong hand was placed on his shoulder, making Kurt jump and look up in terror. Peter was standing over him with his hands held at chest height in surrender.

"Woah, there boy. Calm down, it's just me." A smirk graced his lips. Kurt relaxed with a small smile.

Peter crouched on Kurt's right side. "How are you doing, Kid?"

"I've been better." Kurt admitted as he shuffled to the side to let Peter sit. "I mean, I've definitely been less dirty, but I hear that mud is good for the skin, so I better shine when I get back home." Kurt smirked.

Peter let out a chuckle. "At least you still got your humor." His smile fell as he looked Kurt in the eyes. "But in all seriousness, _how_ are you?"

Kurt looked down at his gun, the steel glistening in the moon's rays; a chill ran down his spine as he mumbled "terrified."

Peter nodded. "Here's my advice, don't let the fear control you. Clear your mind and be rational, use that bright head of yours and you'll be fine. Just keep your wits about you and your head down." Peter said, squeezing his shoulder. "You'll be just fine, kid. Now try to get some sleep."

Peter winked at Kurt as he pulled himself up and turned to walk away. Peter mumbled to himself "I have a feeling you're going to be just fine."

Kurt closed his eyes and let his exhaustion take him into a fitful sleep.

* * *

**Battle of the Somme, British Camp**

**October 26****th****, 1916**

Their new company leader was a slender man named Smythe who, though young, was ranked as a lieutenant. He quickly turned his flirtatious attentions onto Blaine. Blaine wasn't sure whether he was joking but he went out of his was to turn down any advances shot his way. Sure, the guy was attractive enough in his similar khaki uniform but things like that were illegal.

Blaine knew he liked men, it was just a natural fact by this stage in his life, like the sky was blue, if a man got shot in the head he would most likely die, and Blaine got horny thinking of cock. Yet, it wouldn't be anything he would ever act on. He was expected to go home after the war, marry a nice girl and raise a few kids of his own and that was what he planned on doing.

Sebastian had gone so far as to insist that Blaine call him by his given name when they weren't around the other blokes. He eased up next the boy after finally getting him semi-alone. Blaine rolled his hazel eyes, moving a few steps over but the man followed, wiggling his well-maintained eyebrows to emphasise what he was really going after.

"You know, I could get you a comfy position back in the firebay." Sebastian started. "You only have a few minutes to decide. The call to go over the top is coming, but if you ask really nicely I could even throw in a quick tour of the ranked officers accommodations. All you have to do is say yes."

Blaine was scared. He had started to hear things from the pale shadows that weaved their way through the bustling crowds of fresh meat. He knew that going over the top meant entering a new state of hell, filled with bloody and mangled bodies and holes so deep that men who would fall in would never be seen again accompanied by a soundtrack of anguished screams, half audible curses and the rapid spitfire of German machine guns.

"Hey, they said that they want us to start lining up." Brett was standing at the bend in the trench, if he noticed Sebastian being a little too hands on with Blaine he didn't say. Blaine followed without ever responded to the lieutenant's proposition, ignoring the frown that was probably aimed at his back as he adjusted his grip on his rife and wadded through the ankle deep water.

If the trenches were hell then Blaine had no words for what to call no man's land. It was a nightmare from which Blaine was not able to wake himself up. The leap out wasn't dramatic or comfortable as the sandbags on the parapet had become slick and rotted by a deadly combination of rain and time so that when one would reach up to find purchase they were likely to fall apart. The sight that greeted them was equally disillusioning as the area had already been devastated by months of warfare, carnage and the remains of the artillery; broken and abandoned military equipment dotted the hideous landscape. Copious amounts of barbed wire had been buried by the repeated shelling until the wire entanglements had sunk so low that when men attempted to walk through the mud their legs were likely to come out with strands of barbed wire clinging to them. The unburied bodies would sit outside the dug-outs all day, all night until they had become the normal sight while many of the dead who had been buried where they fell were unearthed by the constant barrage of artillery fire. The decayed bodies were tossed up, flying through the air before disintegrating and raining down back onto that spot in-between with audible plops.

Brett died early on after getting caught on one of the entanglements. The pops of rifle fire were so constant that Blaine never saw nor heard which one killed his friend. He only noticed how the boy's body twitched backwards somewhat before being thrown forward face first into the mud, his boot still caught on a line of rusty barbed wire. This left Blaine felling numb and confused; he didn't know how to react. He wanted to run over and see if Brett was still alive even if that seemed highly unlikely, but he knew he couldn't. He had to keep forward lest the sergeants make good on their words to shoot and kill any stragglers.

He spent the night in that place, later it would something Blaine could not speak of, having to listen the death wails of good men and the constant earth shattering thump of shells and the rapid tat-tat-tat of gun fire, before being stumbled on by a weary captain. He was a big guy who looked used to a life of manual labour from not only a different regiment, but a different country all together. His uniform, though similar differed slightly but most defining qualities were caked over by mud so it was hard to tell. He smiled somewhat as he tumbled into Blaine's shell-hole, taking a seat across from the boy before asking in a heavily accented voice if Blaine had some cigs on him.

"Lost m'ne a few puddles bac'."

Blaine offered him one, slightly embarrassed by both their crushed and soggy state but the man graciously took one. Lighting it and taking a deep breath.

"Which regiment are you from?" Blaine was surprised at his voice. It was rough but eerily steady. The man raised his eyebrows before answering with a wiry grin.

"Royal Regina Rifles." He was Canadian but his accent spoke of a more Slavic heritage. Blaine didn't push it and that was the end of the conversation. They spent the night that way, glancing at each other and divvying up the remaining fags but not talking. Close to first light the call came to for the British to fall back.

The man nodded at Blaine before reaching into a side pocket and throwing the younger boy his spare lighter in thanks. Blaine grinned and gestured back his appreciation with a dip of his head. The Canadian continued on forwards and Blaine stumbled his way out of the hole. It was somewhat amusing to watch hundreds of men emerge from their own mud slick pockets; however, many were worse for wear with missing limbs and pronounced limps. The trek back was seemingly more unpleasant then the advancement because now the bloated bodies were ones you could recognize. If someone who had been struck down earlier and was lucky enough, or unlucky enough, to have had made it through the night, men would pool together to drag them back to the safety of the trench.

It seemed however the nowhere was actually safe. As men dropped in, they were greeted with sight of the slumped over bodies of ranked officers and even newer relief. Faceless people wandered in and around them, picking up certain ones, rummaging through their pockets before moving them over to the growing pile of corpses. The lingering smells made Blaine gag and his eyes water.

"What happened?" One man looked up, shook his head and continued to dig through the pockets of a lieutenant. The face and hands of the corpse were burned and bits of his lips had peeled off, but Blaine recognized him as Sebastian Smythe and he said so.

"Mustard Gas. Fucking Fritz got us good last night. The fucking monsters." The man spit to the side as if the thought of their German counterparts made him sick with fury. Blaine could feel such sentiment building within his own stomach. It was raw and cold. He nodded slowly before turning away to find the remnants of his platoon. He had survived his first night in hell, but there would be many more to come.

* * *

**Battle of Epehy, German Trench**

**September 18****th****, 1918**

Kurt was jerked awake, dropping his rifle as an officer moved quickly through the trench, rousing the men. Kurt was disoriented and confused, as those around him started to rise, pulling their packs onto their backs and checking their rifles. A chill ran down Kurt's spine and it dawned on him that it was finally time. With numb fingers Kurt picked up his kit and slung it on his shoulders fastening it around his midsection. He adjusted the knots on his boots and reached for his rifle with a shaking hand.

He was then pushed toward the bottom of a ladder, where he waited behind a boy that couldn't have been more than eighteen years old. Looking to the men on either side of him, he saw what he could only guess was the expression mirrored on his own face, terror.

"-get ready boys we are going to go over the top. The British are in a lull at the moment so we have the element of surprise, so keep your traps shut as you go over" The Captain bellowed "Guns at the ready boys, on my whistle we go over, God be with you!"

"Hummel!" Kurt whipped his head around quickly to see Peter, who was tapping his helmet. Kurt nodded. Right, he needed to keep his head down and keep his wits about him; easier said than done.

It was then that he heard the dreaded whistle. The boy in front of him climbed the ladder and disappeared into no man's land. Kurt was pushed forward with a "Get going, lad!" from the captain. His feet moved of their own accord as they climbed the ladder and over the top. That was when Kurt finally saw what hell looked like.

The Germans crept as quietly as they could through the muddy ground of no man's land, their boots sticking in some places and sliding in others. Kurt kept his eyes on the ground, carefully watching his step to avoid the barbed wire and dead bodies covering the ground.

They were everywhere. Rotting bodies littered the broken earth, their blood combining with the water to cover the battle field. The bodies lay in broken positions; some caught on the entanglements, some with missing limbs and others with their guts protruding. Their faces were lax, showing no emotion, yet Kurt could imagine their horrifying screams in their final moments. They died far from their homes with wounds that sent horridness pain snaking through their bodies, the last sound escaping through their lips was a great cry of agony. It was a horrifying thought. One that Kurt was sure would give him nightmares for the rest of his life.

As Kurt moved on slowly, the rain kept pounding down onto the German 2nd. The rain however didn't subdue the smell of the rotting flesh that kept invading Kurt's nose. His stomach lurch, but he was able to keep it in, barely.

It seemed like they had been walking for hours. The mud clung to their clothing as the rain still poured, bogging the men down. They were already tired and they haven't even started fighting yet. Kurt pushed on, his legs growing tired and his fingers frozen to his rifle his knuckles white from clenching at it so hard. Releasing his hold a bit he wiggled his fingers to get the sore muscles to relax.

It was then that Kurt heard the most terrifying sound of his life, a blood curdling scream from the British trench. He froze, that sound made Kurt's blood run cold, and his heart stop. It sounded like the man was in agony, and his heart went out to him. However, he couldn't dwell on the feelings of sympathy rising in his gut; he needed to keep his wits about him.

The rain was starting to fall harder, so he pressed on, his strides becoming increasingly heavy from the mud caked to his boots. The ground started to become slick as rivers started to flow between the shell holes making the trek in no man's land even more treacherous than before. Kurt tried his damnedest to keep his footing, but the extra weight on his back and feet made it impossible to save him from falling. Kurt rolled into the shell hole hitting every vile thing possible on his decent.

When he hit the cold unsanitary water at the bottom he gave up. He wasn't moving anymore he was tired and he had made up his mind earlier that he was not going to kill. But Kurt knew he would fight when he had someone stumble upon him. Reaching for his rifle and looking at the damage he groaned the barrel was jammed full of mud, and of course his luck would have it he had nothing to clean the damn thing with. So that left him with the bayonet blade attached to his belt. Reaching for the cold metal he secured the bayonet blade to the barrel. Sighing as he got into a comfortable position in his hole he decided that all he could do is wait and see if fate decided that today was the day that Kurt Hummel was to die.

* * *

**Battle of Epehy, British Trench**

**September 18****th****, 1918**

He got the letter at twenty to ten, just as the boys started to hunch down into the alcoves that had been carved into the slick walls of the trench by their predecessors. The sky above was quite, there was an uncomfortable lull in the artillery barrage and the boys filled the silence with loud boisterous laughter that carried down the walkways and through the makeshift duckboard doors.

"Yeah right!"

Nick's disbelieving scoff reached Blaine where he sat a little ways down from them, in his own carved out patch of mud. He watched amused as his mate jumped about the narrow ditch just out of the wide armed reach of the young dough-faced boy, Trent, from Somerset who had unfortunately been brought in with a small relief regiment of seventy. One look at the kid's wide eyes and baby fat cheeks and the boys of the forth had decided to take him under their wing, and with that honour came the terrible teasing he would have to endure.

"It is true! Now give it back." Wailed Trent as he once again tried to sneak a reach around Nick's back to try and retrieve his tattered photo that the other boy kept just out of his reach, waving it about without a care. Nick continued to snicker wickedly, jumping backwards avoiding the flailing arms.

"What's true?" Jeff wadded his way through the pools of gathering mud, his boots squishing with each step he took to reach Blaine, all the while absentmindedly digging through the canvas bag slung across his thin shoulder. Blaine looked up at him sympathetically; the regular mail runner Jacob had been taken out by a German blind pig two weeks earlier so Jeff had been dutifully promoted to the position.

"That our darling Trent here, has himself a girl back home," Supplied Nick, finally giving back the picture, throwing an arm around the boy's shoulders bringing him in tight to his side. Jeff looked back down at Blaine who in turn looked upwards, a thick eyebrow cocked and a small smile twisting on his lips.

"Oh. What's her name?" Jeff grinned at his mates wiggling his eyebrows. Trent's round face was red with embarrassment and he desperately tried to shove the photograph back into the breast pocket of his mud stained uniform.

"Amy. She's got it real bad for me too." Blaine would never say but the smirk on Trent's face was just fucking adorable. He watched, trying to lite another fag in the drizzling rain as Trent puffed out his wide chest and continued on with his story.

"Yeah in fact on the day I left for base camp she let me get to second base," he boasted to the humour of the others "…and she's got some great tat tats. She even told me that if things got bad that I was to think of them."

The laughter that followed was unusually loud and drew in the attention of others stooped down in the corners. Ashen faces largely hidden by the darkness save for the small flicker orange lights, turned up in order to glance at the quartet of chuckling lads, rain dripping from their helmets. They looked like ghosts.

"Were they glorious?"

Nick and Trent continued to gush over their sexual encounters, water logged arms wrapped around the others neck and heads dragged in so close that their helmets would clank together. Blaine snorted lightly flicking the butt of his fag into a muddy pool before standing up. His knees cracked loudly but he ignored the discomfort and stretched outwards and not upwards to avoid any stray bullets old fritz could be sending their way.

The weather was getting more and more miserable by the second. The rain was now coming down harder and filling the shovel carved dyke to the point that Blaine was worried that the soup of blood and rot might start to fill his boots again. Then he would have to scout out another pair of socks. Maybe ones that didn't smell like three day decomp. By now the deadly chill was finally sinking into his bones and he brought his hands up to his face, inspecting the raw and red digits before breathing warm moist air onto them.

"Hey before I forget." Jeff interrupted Blaine's silence, thrusting a sagging envelop at his face. Blaine blinked, trying to make out the soggy lettering on the front before reaching out to take the note with a look of confusion etched on his attractive face. It wasn't like his parents would have sent him anything even if they were privy to where he was stationed and Cooper was too busy being bogged down in his own trench system.

"Thanks," he replied turning all attention to his new possession. Jeff's thin lips twitched upwards again and he took off, continuing down the way, the squish and sucking of his footsteps lingering.

Blaine looked the envelope over again finally being able to distinguish his name, rank and division. The writing wasn't pretty; rather it was angled and rushed, the ink was heavily smudged and some suspicious dark stains dotted the top right corner. The paper was obviously damp due to the fact that the flap was slightly opened but Blaine had lost the feeling to his hands days ago. He had to thumb the rest of the thing open because his fingers, now swollen, were practically useless.

Predictably it was a letter, short and done on one page of standard military paper, the kind that the captains and commanders tended to hoard by the stacks. The words were hand written and done with a blunt pencil but still legible. Blaine first pulled out another fag before reaching back into his breast pocket to pull out his lighter too, ignoring the lustful gaze of others as he pocketed it again. The lit tip of the cigarette provided some light but he still had to bring the damned thing up close to his face weary of either burning it to ash if bought to close or soaking it thoroughly if held further away than the reach of his helmet's rim. Letters were hard to come by in this little slice of hell so he had to make sure that he read it carefully, drawing in every detail knowing that the boys would want to know everything, before it was sentenced to the punishment of life in the trench. So he read it, and then re-read it again just to be sure.

The scream that ripped its way out of Blaine throat was so blood curdling that it didn't sound human.

* * *

_Dear Blaine _

_I am so sorry that you have to find out this way. At this moment your parents must be receiving their letter but I thought it pertinent that you be directly informed of your bother, Cooper's death. It happened on the first of September in the old foxhole. He was sent to the rest camp by some shrapnel that came down from the top. He was conscious up till the last breath. I was with him in the end. He gave me a message for you when we realized how bad he had gotten it. He said to have __**courage**__, that it is the greatest quality next to honour. We buried him at dawn but sent his disk on home._

_Coop was a gentleman's gentleman, a mother's worst nightmare and a born friend. I am sincerely sorry for your loss for he will be truly missed._

_Yours respectfully _

_Tomas W. Baker_

* * *

**Please don't hate us. We're sorry.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! We are extremely sorry for the long wait but, we just finished our semester at school so packing and moving back to our respective homes was a bit of a task and now work seems to be eating up all of our time, but we are trying to get these chapters written as fast as we can while still giving you quality writing.**

**Once again, check out our tumblr at ( ijugglepotatoes . tumblr . com ) for more information, including info about updates, cool pictures and back ground stories and other things that won't make it into the actual story and song lists. **

**This chapter was a hard one since it was the idea that started it all with our inspiration coming from the movies War Horse and Passchendaele. We were so into it that we wrote a REALLY long chapter so we will be splitting it into two!**

**So the second half of this part will be out by Wednesday evening at the latest.**

**Also a little aside we find it hilarious that our Beta has a vendetta against the word comrades ... it reminds her of Russians, not that she has anything against them, it's just funny. So we are becoming inventive. ;) (It just reminds me of really bad old movies where Russians are all the bad guys. ~Beta)**

**Also, a quick shout out to ImaginedInsanity (aka Katherine) and MisssyL, who reviewed the first couple chapters! Thanks so much!**

**And lastly if you guys start reviewing even to say a quick "Hi, I like/hate the story" we are more likely to try and update a bit faster, we promise some exciting scenes are coming, including some sexy times and we know Klainers love sexy times. So review and tell your friends!**

**So now that you want us to shut up, here is "part 1" aka: Chapter 2 of You and I Collide!**

**Disclaimer: We own nothing and make no money from this. The characters all belong to RIB for the most part. **

* * *

**September 18****th****, 1918 – Battle of Epehy**

**Blaine**

The shock of the letter was too much. The last thing Blaine could remember was falling to his knees, the thick stew of filth sinking in and making his uniform cling to his legs. A painfully tight, pulsating ball of anger welled up in the centre of his chest, building until it finally exploded out in a flash of white heat that consumed him. He couldn't think straight, couldn't breathe properly and couldn't feel anything. Hate raged within him, throwing itself against his rib cage in heavy beats. In the end all that remained was a frothing, wailing beast demanding to be set free.

Blaine was ignorant to the wide-eyed, confused glances from the surrounding soldiers as his mates moved forward with reaching hands to control this thrashing creature that had suddenly taken their friend's place. He threw his body backwards, a hand lashing out to quickly swat Nick away while the other reached out scrambling for purchase along the dirt wall of the trench. His gun was leaning against the wall, where he had placed it when he'd been handed the damn letter. The heavy butt sunk low in the trench water but the barrel and trigger were aimed upwards, protected from the down pour by a little shelf that had been carved.

In the almost two years that Blaine had been situated at the front line he had come to learn that survival meant following the orders that trickled down to him from the upper levels of the British Army. The key order was to shoot before asking questions. He had killed before. In fact he had become well adapted in picking off the Huns that continually tried to make their way across that little scrap of death known as No Man's Land. It was easiest when they had to crawl over the wire strung across the entrapments that had been buried deep due to shelling. Never, however, had he ever turned his weapon on a fellow countryman.

The fingers of Blaine's right hand though still swollen and numb curled around the stock of his British Lee-Enfield rifle. He tried to find purchase while another heart wrenching cry escaped him. The thick streams of tears that trickled from the corners of his eyes were unaccustomedly warm and left clean trails in their wake.

Nick's face pulled tight and turned an alarming shade of white as he tried again to reach out to his friend. His finger's curled tightly into the back of Blaine's soaked jacket and Nick wrenched him to his feet amidst Blaine's still flailing limbs. They almost tumbled back into the watery grime when Blaine got in a solid smack with the end of his rifle.

Another boy entered the fray. Thad, an average looking bloke with dark hair, hidden by a metal helmet, was trying to wrestle the weapon from Blaine's grasp but wasn't faring well. His hands were too slick from the rain to get a tight hold. That, combined with the fact that he was trying to avoid losing his dying fag in the scuffle made it easy for Blaine to land a kick to the shin which made the boy back away wearily with a few choice curse words.

From there it was simple enough to swing around, arching an elbow to catch Nick in the side of the neck. Nick let out a loud gasp and stumbled backwards, first into the other wall of the trench and then into the ankle deep waters that sloshed around.

"What the fuck, Anderson!"

By now, others had started to press inwards in curiosity but confusion was carved onto their weathered and dirty faces. Trent hesitated from the safety of his position several metres back before wadding his way to Nick's side; his eyes never once left Blaine's heaving and shivering frame.

"…Blaine. Stop this! What are you doing?" Trent's voice, soft and disbelieving wavered when another shout left Nick.

"Get that the fuck out of my face!"

Blaine, chest still heaving and pupils blown wide, had seemed to pull himself together enough to raise his gun, with the bayonet still attached, and aim it directly into Nick's right eye.

Just as suddenly as Blaine's meltdown had begun, it ended. The edge of the blade dropped down, narrowly avoiding the side of Nick's clenched jaw, and was harmonized by the collective exhale of those watching. The wild look didn't leave Blaine's face and that scared Trent even more. Without a sound or an explanation he swung his body around pushed his way towards one of the rickety ladders someone had tied together with soggy strands of rope. Before anyone could shout or make a grab for him Blaine was vaulting over the stacked bags that lined the tops of the trench.

* * *

**Kurt**

The rain continued to fall from the dark sky, creating rivers of muddy water that started to fall into the large shell hole in which Kurt was now residing. He was crouched in the hole's ankle deep water with his back resting against the wall. Balancing his rifle on his lap Kurt rubbed his hands together in an attempt to gather some warmth, but no matter how hard he tried they remained stiff from the chilly September wind. Kurt took hold of his rifle once more, wringing his hands over the barrel as his nerves started to settle in once again.

He was scared to meet his fate. Just the thought of dying made him think of all the things he'd never done in his young life. The list was long and included many things that Kurt knew wouldn't likely happen, even if he had the chance. Like falling in love; something he had decided would never happen because of his affection towards men. He'd expected as much but the thought that he wouldn't even get the chance was heartbreaking.

It was eerie how quiet it was. The only sounds Kurt could hear came from the rain drops falling on his helmet. Kurt felt a sharp pain shoot up his leg as it started to cramp from the unnatural position he was forcing his body into. Giving up on his attempt to stay somewhat dry, he sat in the cold water, despite the horrid thoughts about what could be in there with him. He sighed as he let his muscles relax. He saw it as a small blessing that the water starting to saturate his clothing went mostly unnoticed, since his uniform was basically soaked to begin with.

Suddenly a cry broke the silence, followed by the sounds of gun shots echoing through no man's land. Kurt was unable to tell from what direction the shots were coming from, as he readied himself for an attack. Steadying his gun against the slope, he slowly lifted his body placing his hands on the muddy ground of his embankment. Kurt saw the tail end of his regiment running towards him, shooting at an unknown target. When a stray bullet whizzed by his face he ducked back down, clutching his chest with one hand as he tried to calm his erratic breathing.

An unexpected splash covered Kurt in muddy water, causing him to scream in surprise as it hit the back of his neck. Quickly wiping at the mud on his neck he spun around to find that a man had tumbled into his hole. The man let out a groan as he regained his footing, glancing around until his eyes fell on Kurt.

Kurt held eye contact with the man, his fear rising as he stumbled blindly for his rifle. His eyes followed the man's movements as he rose to stand over Kurt his chest heaving, as his hands clasped a gun that was now pointed to Kurt's forehead.

Kurt's eyes widened as he felt the cold tip of metal against his forehead. Glancing up to the man's eyes Kurt hoped to find some form of hesitation in them, but all he found was hard orbs that seemed to stare right into his very soul.

"Das ist es." Kurt mumbled to himself, letting out the breath that he was holding as his eyes drifted closed. He waited for the death blow that this Brit was poised to deliver.

Yet, seconds crawled by and it never came.

Hesitantly, Kurt opened one eye to see what was happening, and was surprised at what he saw. The British soldier looked torn. The gun shook a little in his hand causing the sharp metal to nick the skin on Kurt's forehead. His brow was furrowed in confusion as he seemed to fight an inner battle with himself.

The British man's eyes widened suddenly watching Kurt's blood trickle down towards his eye. The conflicting emotions showed in the Brit's features.

It was the British soldier's next actions that truly confused Kurt. The gun that was cutting into his skin was lowered, hanging weakly in the man's grasp.

"Warum hast du nicht mich töten? Ich bin dein Feind." Kurt asked, confused. The man just stood over him looking lost.

"I- I don't understand what you are saying." The man said in English.

Kurt instantly called on his skills of translation, feeling completely stupid for asking the British man a question in his mother tongue of German.

"Why didn't you kill me?" he asked in his own heavily accented English, the words feeling odd on his lips from the lack of use. "I'm your enemy."

The man's eyes showed a glimmer of surprise, before he dropped to his knees, creating a small splash. He didn't seem to mind the water that soaked his uniform as he curled into a ball with his back against the wall and his head in his hands. The man looked like a cornered animal that had given up on fighting and was awaiting its own death.

Kurt watched as the man's broad shoulders caved in, seemingly trying to become even smaller. It would be so easy for Kurt to grab his gun and run the man through in this moment of weakness, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind Kurt felt his blood run cold. Even when faced with the thought of himself or this unknown man dying, Kurt was willing to give the other man life because he seemed to be a god damn coward.

Dabbing at the cut on his forehead to check the bleeding, Kurt felt the warm liquid was starting to clot. At least until he made the mistake of rubbing his sleeve across his face to get some of the lingering mud away. Kurt sighed in frustration, the noise causing the man across from him to look up uncurling his body, terror and sorrow written in his every feature. Kurt stared at the man with wide eyes, surprised at the sudden movement the soldier made but relaxed as the man tried to make himself more comfortable in the hole.

In the darkness Kurt could hardly make out the man's features. However, Kurt was under the assumption that the man was quite good looking despite the fact that he was covered in what could only be months of mud and grime. What little Kurt could see of the man was that he was broad shouldered and muscular at least compared to himself, his tailored green uniform was covered in mud as it clung to his frame, showing off a tapered waist. The man's hair was covered by his helmet, but the few strands that Kurt could see at the nape of his neck curled in tight spirals. The man had a strong jawline, his nose a bit large for his face yet it seemed to suit him just fine, it was actually nice to see a small flaw in him even though it really wasn't one. The man's eyes were almost impossible to decipher from this distance, the colour was hidden from Kurt's view but the emotions in them were as bright as day. At this moment those eyes seemed to be transfixed on Kurt never wavering.

He was staring just as Kurt had done but it seemed to be much more scrutinizing, gauging him for who knows what. The silence between them continued as Kurt busied himself with looking at the cuff of his jacket, pretending to take interest in the fraying material. But the man kept staring, as if Kurt was some sort of animal that he never seen before, and it was starting to make Kurt's skin crawl.

Kurt's annoyance was growing as each second passed. The staring was awkward; every time Kurt would look up the man would be looking at him. Kurt was starting to wonder if he even blinked.

Against Kurt's better judgement he broke the silence, "Are all British people this strange?" Kurt asked quietly, annoyance dripping from his voice, but he didn't care. He couldn't handle the insane man staring at him anymore.

The man looked completely bewildered, being interrupted from his trance, at the idea that a German would seem to know his language. Kurt's only indication that he heard him was him raising a bushy triangular eyebrow in question.

Kurt sighed, his frustration with the man growing as the staring seemed to intensify now that he opened his mouth. "You're staring. Have you never seen a German before?"

The man mumbled under his breath, glancing away from Kurt for the first time since the bizarre bout of staring had commenced.

Kurt rolled his eyes, "and they don't know how to speak up, it seems." He said aloud and stared pointedly at the man.

The British soldier looked back towards Kurt, "I said, none as adorable as you."

Kurt blinked in surprise at the response he was given, a blush rising in his cheeks as he looked to the water finally finding his gun.

_None as adorable as you_, seriously what was wrong with this man? He must have hit his head as he fell into the shell hole because no one says something like that while they are sitting in a large hole full of muddy water, with their enemy, who has a gun within arm's reach. It was official; the man was insane.

Kurt looked up to see the man smiling charmingly, as if he was proud of himself. "My name is Blaine."

"Kurt" he responded, without thinking. He watched as Blaine tried his name on his lips, his smile growing slightly.

Blaine shifted in his position, grumbling to himself as he started to move.

Kurt grabbed his gun, pointing it to Blaine's chest. His hands were shaking, and his mind raced.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Blaine said as he raised his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just moving, I think I may be sitting on someone..." he looked behind him to check, and then looked back to Kurt.

Kurt lowered his gun. The idea fully registered in his head and all the colour left his face. He stared at Blaine in horror.

Blaine lingered for a moment looking at Kurt before he turned to move the body that he was indeed sitting on. Blaine dragged the bloated body up further on the embankment, grunting slightly as he did so before turning and hesitantly moving to sit next to Kurt.

* * *

**Blaine**

It was with a loud huff that Blaine lowered himself down into what could only be watery human rot. He didn't seem to dwell too hard on that fact. Obviously this wasn't his first time being bogged down in a shell hole and the poor bastard lying across from them wasn't the first person to die where they sat, but at least the water level was low enough that they wouldn't drown and the company was a lot livelier.

The pain in Blaine's chest was still there, though not as pulsating as before, rather it seemed to have condensed itself into a hard stone that didn't hurt as much when he shyly glanced over at Kurt. Kurt, whose glazed eyes hadn't moved from the corpse Blaine had dragged out from underneath the water. Kurt, who looked both deathly pale and a little green, and who definitely didn't look old enough or experienced enough to be in a situation like this.

Looking down briefly as he wiggled his arse a little more up the shell made embankment as not to be fully situated in the mud that threatened to sink lower under his weight, he noted the slight twitching of his fingers though he could not feel the movement. He fidgeted about some more looking for something to occupy his hands once he realized that his gun was still sitting all pretty next to the body across the hole from them. The internal debate over getting up and retrieving it or staying seated next to the German boy wasn't long. Getting up again would only put Kurt on the defensive and he was already so tired, so with a soft curse he left it sitting there. The short outburst extracted some reaction from Kurt, whose eyebrows drew together in a deep furrow. He didn't say anything and hardly spared a glance at Blaine, as he started to get comfy again. Blaine pulled his knees in tighter and rested his elbows on them in an effort to keep his hands out of the cold water.

"Do you have a fag?" Blaine asked with what he thought was a pleasant smile. It obviously it wasn't. As Kurt's head swung to the left, his eyes snapped away from the body to stare directly at Blaine with a look that could only be described as uncomfortable. Splotches of dark red had started to decorate his still baby rounded and far to clean cheeks as he glanced down at the lack of distance between their bodies and that stupid expression plastered on Blaine's filthy face. He moved away slightly, the dark water rippling around their legs with his movements.

"A what!" Kurt's voice was shrill, pitched too high to be normal and too stuttered to be relaxed. That adorable blush had started to work its way along the back of his thin neck and along the tops of his ears, and Blaine found it hard to stop himself from teasing the boy further.

"You know, a cigarette?" Blaine tried again, his thin lips still twitching upwards as he imitated a smoking gesture. Bringing two fingers from his left hand up to his mouth, where he patted his lips a few times before dropping his arm back down to his knees. After that Kurt seemed to visibly relax. His thin shoulders slumping slightly forward as he shook his head, eyes moving back towards their silent shell mate.

"No. I don't smoke." He replied. Blaine didn't know how to respond, both a little shocked and a little saddened. Everyone smoked; it seemed to be the unofficial law of the trench. The tiny flickering of lighted ends were their nightlights because torches were officially banned and the dotting of the clustered groups of smoking men at the ends of freshly dug tracks had become their wayward constellations. The night skies too clouded with the thick residue of artillery.

An uncomfortable silence followed. It was as if neither knew what to really say to the other; someone who legitimately was still considered to be the enemy with orders to be shot on sight.

"So…" Blaine started lamely, making a show of looking upwards and away from the cowering boy to the right. "How are you enjoying the weather?"

He tried for subtle, eyes cutting to the side every so often to look at Kurt and the small smile cutting its way across Kurt's lips. It made Blaine's heart beat a little faster as it was the first smile he had gotten out him. It was a funny sight to beheld, that slight upturn. Blaine seemed almost under the opinion that Kurt didn't know how, that his only default settings were scared and snarky. Blaine was embarrassed to admit but it was entirely possible that he was blushing four different shades of red, not that anyone could tell with all that layered mud. Thankfully, however, Kurt was also looking down at his mud slicked uniform with a strong look of distaste, his thin fingers plucking at the gold coloured buttons. It was a giant improvement from looking at the body.

"I've had better." He answered and then with a soft snicker he added "I think it will take years to dry out."

Blaine didn't stop the hearty chuckle that escaped him. "Yeah. However this is actually it being pretty dry."

A horrified expression crossed Kurt's face and he squawked out "You must be joking!"

"I wish." Blaine choked out between fits of laughter.

Their small bout of humour came to a quick end when artillery started up again, startling both of them. The resounding snap of recoiling canon mortars and the whistle of arching bombs from overhead were quickly being drowned out by the spray of the shrapnel and mud as they impacted with the earth. Kurt's jaw visibly tightened as he drew his arms around himself, hands clenching into tightly balled fists and fingernails digging into the fleshy bits of his palms. Blaine had to draw his eyes away from the sight of the other man's bobbing Adam's apple just above the collar of his darkened German uniform as Kurt tried to swallow thickly; heat building low in his stomach and he was immediately feeling guilty for the telltale tightening of his gut.

A shower of thick mud rained down of them as the boom of artillery crept closer by the moment. Kurt had closed his eyes, face scrunching as heavy droplets of mud hit his shoulders and the sides of his sheet-white face. Blaine didn't close his eyes but ducked his head down momentarily with a grimace on his face as he left the nape of his neck open for a direct assault. Together they burrowed deeper into the filth that surrounded them and Blaine felt only mildly guilty as he took the opportunity to slowly close the space between them.

"It helps if you just think of it as thunder."

Kurt opened his bright eyes, blinking into the darkness as he uncurled his arms from around himself before turning his head upwards to watch how Blaine tried in vain to dig out the mud that slid under the collar of his jacket. Artillery continued to rain down on No Man's Land but suddenly it wasn't as terrifying.

"You've been out here for a while, haven't you?" It wasn't really a question but it broke the silence and reminded them both that they were still there; that they had been lucky the shell hadn't been any closer or it could have been jagged pieces of twisted metal falling on them. Their eyes meet for a brief moment and Blaine gave a hollow laugh turning his attention back to their surroundings, realizing his task was futile.

"I've been here for two years." It was obvious to Blaine that the boy hadn't been out here long, but he decided to attempt some conversation anyway.

"You?" He asked before finding himself shocked by the answer given.

"Four days." Kurt smirked at Blaine's expression.

"My god, you're just a baby." He cried, as if really seeing Kurt for the first time. This made his gut tighten in the bad way, as if his insides squirmed with nausea. He had come close to just viciously killing the poor sod, and the boy had never even seen the battle field before. He'd never even had a chance to realize just what he'd gotten his sorry arse into. Blaine took a moment, settling back down into his cold muddy imprint, to think about that first night becoming so lost in old memories that he almost missed Kurt's stuttered and defensive "I'm not a baby."

Kurt was red again, a scowl set on his elfin face. It was so damn cute that Blaine wanted to chuckle but he was pretty sure that Kurt wouldn't appreciate it.

"I didn't mean it like that. But some things seem to make more sense now..." The scowl didn't leave Kurt's pursed face but he did cock an eyebrow and stare pointedly, waiting for Blaine to continue. Blaine got the distinct impression that whatever he said was not going to help his case.

"It's just…I mean…" He started only to stop when Kurt's look didn't lighten up. Blaine didn't really comprehend what was going on between them. It wasn't as if they were friends. If they survived this night, they would just head back to their respective trenches to lick their wounds and start shooting at each other all over again. It really was a vicious cycle.

"You have your pack." He babbled. "And you jump at the canons and on top of that you keep glancing at our shell mate when you think I'm not watching."

That knocked the scathing look from Kurt's face. Instead he turned away, head tilted downwards in embarrassment, fingers intently plucking at the tarnished buckle at his waist and eyes shifting back to the corpse still across the hole from them but not responding. Blaine felt a little sheepish calling Kurt out like that, but another strained silence was starting to settle and he really didn't want to leave things this way.

With a deep breath and more genteel smile Blaine opened his mouth to say something to smooth over the situation but was sadly disappointed when all he blurted out was "I think we should call him Hans."

That drew Kurt's attention back. He looked at Blaine slightly confused until he caught on that Blaine's restrained arm flails were a way of gesturing towards the corpse. A dainty chuckle resonated in the shell hole as Kurt snickered bringing a curled hand to his mouth as a way to restrain the sound.

"Oh please, we both know that that is a British uniform." He reached over and gave Blaine's infantry collar button a quick flick, making the other man bark out a loud laugh. A small blush rose across Kurt's cheeks and he sat back with slightly widened eyes as if surprised by his own bold actions. Blaine didn't seem to notice as he was too busy trying to get his own flush under, he had felt both the movement of Kurt's body as he leaned over and the muted flick against his throat. He swallowed thickly and pushed himself to respond.

"Well what do you think we should name him then?" He asked. Kurt stopped, tapping his chin as he thought for a moment.

"Robert."

It was a little unexpected but the absurdity that they were actually going to name the bloated body made Blaine chuckle again.

"Alright, Bobby it is."

* * *

**Next part by Wednesday! We promise!**


	4. Chapter 3

**As promised, here's the next chapter! **

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**Once again, if you guys leave us a few words of encouragement, we are likely to get the next chapter out faster. Speaking of the next chapter, it mostly hasn't been written yet, so we can't really say when it will be out because we all have such crazy schedules right now. We're attempting to have it finished for early next week, but we make no promises. Sorry guys!**

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* * *

**September 18****th****, 1918 – Battle of Epehy**

**Kurt**

Kurt sat listening to Blaine's story about how Bobby had ended up without his life in a shell hole. He giggled when Blaine came up with some pretty kooky ideas, and added his own when Blaine seemed to be stuck about something.

Kurt couldn't seem to keep his eyes off Blaine. He watched his every movement, from the curve of his pink lips when he talked to the restless movements of his hands as he spoke. Kurt was completely taken with him, especially now that he knew what colour his eyes were. They were honey brown and so full of life that Kurt couldn't help but be entranced by Blaine. He wondered why such an amazing man would sit beside him willingly. Especially since they seemed to be sitting in a man-made hole that contained water, dirt, blood and dead men; how utterly romantic.

Out of nowhere, Kurt's stomach growled. He blushed in embarrassment. Of all the times his stomach would betray him, of course it would be when he is sitting right next to a handsome and charming man that wasactually willing to speak with him. Kurt had to remind himself that this man did attempt to kill him, and still had the potential to do so, even if his rifle was sitting several feet across from them. Yet, Kurt couldn't stop the warm feeling in his chest Blaine gave him.

His stomach growled again, this time loud enough for Blaine to hear. Blaine paused in his ramblings to give Kurt an amused smile, before nudging his shoulder against Kurt's.

"I'm a bit peckish myself" he tilted his head looking from Kurt to his pack. "Do you have anything in that pack of yours?"

Kurt quickly undid the clasp at his waist, so that he could swing it to his front to scavenge for the food he knew was somewhere in the bag. He dug through the pack, moving some of his equipment around, before finding the rations and canteen at the very bottom.

After a few moments, Kurt held out a bag of jerky and his canteen to Blaine. The man smiled as he accepted the drink offered to him, and placed his hand into the bag pulling out a few pieces for himself.

Stopping, Blaine gave Kurt an odd look as he rummaged in the bag a bit more.

"Honestly, how long does it take you to grab a few pieces?" Kurt joked.

"No, wait there is something hard in here." Blaine mumbled under his breath, as he leaned closer to Kurt to get a good look into the bag.

"What are you looking for?"

Blaine let out a hearty laugh as he fished out what he was looking for. "Umm, Kurt, why is there a compass in your jerky?"

Kurt gaped at Blaine, who was indeed holding a compass in his hand. "I - it must have fallen in at some point-"

Blaine shook in silent laughter as he watched Kurt flounder for an explanation.

"Oh, shut up and eat your jerky." Kurt snapped snarkily as he snatched the compass from Blaine's hand, replacing it with some jerky.

The two of them sat quietly, eating the dried meat. Kurt listened to the steady rhythm of Blaine's breathing, noticing how the sounds of falling shells became less frequent and how every so often their shoulders would brush sending a chill down Kurt's spine, which made his blush darken and his belly grow warm. Kurt swore this man may be the death of him yet.

"What kind of jerky is this?" Blaine murmured around a huge chunk in his mouth, a look of disgust on his face as he ate the meat in question.

"I have no idea." Kurt shrugged, giving Blaine a weak smile, "They just gave it to me."

Blaine smiles back, his eyes lighting up. "Right, well I guess it's a good thing I fell in a hole with a newbie." He said as he reached for the canteen that Kurt was holding, brushing his fingers along Kurt's hand.

Another shiver ran up Kurt's spine as Blaine's fingers touched the back of his hand. He smiled at Blaine, letting him take the bottle. Kurt watched Blaine's Adam's apple bob as he drank, letting out an annoyed sound as some of the water spilled from his lips. Blaine glanced at Kurt smiling when he caught Kurt staring.

"Just so you know," Blaine said as he wiped the back of his sleeve across his mouth. "Out here it's not starvation that will kill you..."

Kurt hummed in response. "Shouldn't I be more worried about British soldiers falling in my hole threatening to shoot me?" he teased.

Blaine let out a laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He placed a hand on Kurt's shoulder, as if he needed to ground himself. "Well, yeah," Blaine wheezed, "but that wasn't my point."

"Then what was your point?" Kurt asked as Blaine attempted to regain his composure.

His face grew grave. "I meant, there are worse things to die from then starvation."

"Okay, just because I'm German doesn't mean we didn't learn about all the horrible, gruesome ways in which a man can die in war."

"Again, not really what I meant. You really need to let a man finish his thoughts." Blaine chuckled.

Kurt blushed, which he had noticed, seemed to be the only thing he did around this man. "Then what do you mean?" Kurt asked bashfully.

"What can actually kill you is the cold and boredom," he said, a smile growing on his face.

"You're joking, right?" Kurt asked, looking at Blaine with confusion. "I can understand the cold, but boredom?"

"Oh, yeah," Blaine said with a straight face as he turned towards Kurt, grabbing one of his hands as he did so. "Here, let me give you some life lessons."

Kurt laughed at Blaine's sudden enthusiasm, glancing at their clasped hands. "You're going to give me tips?"

Blaine nodded.

"Alright, teach me oh wise one."

Blaine smirked, "Okay, my first tip is hoard socks."

"Hoard socks?"

"Yes, for example, the ones I'm wearing now aren't mine."

Kurt raised an eyebrow in question. "I don't want to know, do I?"

Blaine grimaced a bit, "It's not pretty but when you've been in a trench long enough you will do anything to keep your feet warm" Blaine paused, looking at Kurt oddly, "And that includes taking socks from dead people."

Kurt froze as Blaine's words sank in; he was wearing socks that were on a dead man's feet.

"Oh, my god." He whispered in horror, looking from Blaine's face to his boots. "You're wearing a dead man's socks?"

"Yeah..." Blaine hesitated. "If it makes you feel any better I'm not the only one that does it. It keeps you from getting trench foot."

Kurt burst into a nervous fit of giggles that left Blaine staring, a little put off by Kurt's reaction. "I could never do that!" Kurt exclaimed.

"I didn't think I could either." Blaine agreed, shrugging. "But I would rather be able to feel my feet, than have to potentially get them cut off from frostbite."

"Good point." Kurt replied, his smile faltering a bit. Blaine seemed to be becoming restless as he started to fidget with Kurt's hand, rubbing the pad of his thumb across Kurt's knuckles. Kurt's breath caught at the intimacy of it.

"So what other tips do you have for me?" Kurt asked breathlessly, watching Blaine's face change again, a small dusting of a blush seemed to show through the mud plastered on his face.

"Oh, umm, dry matches." Blaine paused, looking straight into Kurt's eyes, smiling. "If you want to gain favour with the boys, have a set of dry matches on you-"

"But, I don-"

"Whether you smoke or not." Blaine continued, "Having some matches around can be handy. It will help you make some friends and out here having some friends comes in handy."

Kurt nodded his understanding, feeling like he shouldn't pry. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, one last thing-" Blaine withdrew his hand, making Kurt's hand feel cold from the absence of Blaine's warmth. He dug into his jacket pulling out a brown, leather-bound book.

"You should find some sort of hobby, whether it be playing cards, writing, drawing, anything really." Blaine shrugged as he placed the book in Kurt's hand.

Kurt looked up at Blaine, silently asking permission to open the book.

Blaine nodded, when their eyes meet. "I started that a few weeks in, it keeps your mind sharp, and well, it keeps you from going insane..."

Kurt pulled open the worn leather clasp of the book. The pages were becoming slightly yellowed from wear. Opening the book to a random page, Kurt saw some chicken scratch covering the one side of the book and a portrait of a man on the opposite side.

The image was very impressive; the detail was impeccable and so life-like, the man looked as if he could jump off of the page. Kurt continued to thumb through the book looking at the beautiful images, smiling at the talent that Blaine had.

Kurt stopped to read a few of the passages as well, revealing that Blaine had another talent in writing. The short stories he had written intrigued Kurt. He was always interested in literature and reading, and Blaine's imagination, and talent for writing made Kurt want to sit and read every word that graced the pages, but he knew now was not the time.

Kurt finished looking through the book, quickly flipping the pages to ensure that he didn't miss any of the pictures. When he flipped to the back of the cover Kurt noticed writing that wasn't Blaine's, the note was heartfelt and signed _With love, Cooper_.

"Who's Cooper?" Kurt asked; his mind was drifting to ideas of Blaine having a handsome lover back in England. A tiny green monster started to show its ugly head at the thought of another man holding Blaine in his arms.

The thought of someone else knowing what it felt like to have his hands tangled in his curls, to know what it was like to wake up to those beautiful honey orbs staring into his soul every morning, it was enough to make Kurt want to march to England and let this Cooper know that he, Kurt Hummel, was the man that Blaine should be in love with and be with till the end of time.

Kurt gave his head a hard shake, willing these absurd thoughts to leave his mind. He was going crazy. Only a few hours in a shell hole with a man he hardly knew a stitch about and he was fawning over him as if he was a school girl. Letting out a small breath, Kurt looked back to Blaine hoping he had no clue as to what he had been thinking.

Blaine looked uncomfortable, and starting fidgeting again. Glancing from Kurt to Bobby lying at the other side of the trench, Blaine heaved a great sigh.

"My brother." Blaine whispered, his face growing sombre.

Kurt instantly felt like he was the worst person in the world, for letting his mind wander the way it had. He knew nothing about Blaine's life, but he could understand the look of complete anguish that now was plastered on Blaine's face. It was the same look he had seen on his father's face when they had lost Kurt's mother.

Without thinking, Kurt placed a reassuring hand on Blaine's shoulder causing the other man to flinch. Kurt mumbled a quick apology, taking the hand in his own and rubbing it as if it were burned by Blaine's rejection.

Kurt hesitated. He wanted to know more about Cooper, but seeing Blaine's expression Kurt knew to leave the subject alone. Kurt grabbed the book that was balancing on his knee and placed it on Blaine's. Letting both Blaine and himself get lost in their own thoughts.

* * *

**Blaine**

Blaine had to take a moment and breathe, trying to overcome the sharp pain of tears pricking at the back of his eyes. Cooper was dead. As much as he didn't want to believe it (he hadn't actually seen the body, so who was to say that he was really gone?) and he hated himself for that false glimmer of hope, it was the truth. He stared at Bobby, wondering, in all of his creative exploits of the dead man's fictitious back story; did he give him a brother? Did dearly departed Robert actually have siblings? Would they morn like this for him? Feel as if the bright joyful things inside had just disappeared without them noticing?

He suddenly felt sick, realizing that in the hours that he spent bogged down in this shell hole that reeked of waste and earth, with Kurt and the unknown dead man, he had forgotten about everything, the stupid war, the goddamn cold and Cooper's death.

It was a rude smack in the face and he wasn't ready to deal with it just yet, if ever. However, he didn't want to stop talking to Kurt, didn't want to stop thinking that someday things could be, not alright but maybe, okay. This strange German boy made him think that this didn't mean that everything good inside Blaine had died and while this made him feel even more guilty, he couldn't let that go away.

"You speak good English, for a German, that is." Changing the subject, Blaine turned his attention back to Kurt, feeling a little giddy rush when the man's face seemed to light up again. "How did you learn?" He had to ask. Most Germans he'd come across were prisoners of war, who shouted out broken phrases in butchered English.

Kurt sighed dramatically, his thin shoulders heaving upwards with the motion.

"I speak English well." He corrected. The words perfectly formed, with only a slightly harsh accent to them and with a tone that clearly implied his irritation at Blaine's incompetence in reproducing his own language.

Blaine couldn't help but chuckle, muttering "Oh, shove off" which earned him a soft smile from Kurt.

"My mother taught me." The distant look and small crinkle of sadness just around Kurt's pale eyes told Blaine everything he should know, which was a clear 'don't ask about it'. So, Blaine didn't.

"So, where abouts are you from?"

Kurt grimaced again at Blaine's lack of correctness in talking; all it got out of Blaine was a cheeky grin as he leaned over and bumped their shoulders together. Kurt flushed again, obviously not used to having such actions directed at him, but he looked grateful at the change in topic.

"I am from Düsseldorf." He answered. The awe in his voice as he spoke of his home, the river and his father's garage made Blaine's chest tighten and his heart flutter.

"And you?" Kurt was looking at him now with wide imploring eyes and Blaine felt compelled to answer. He snuggled down again in his imprint, fingers absentmindedly running across the discoloured bindings of his journal, drawing out strange patterns.

"I was born in Bromley. It's near London." Kurt hummed, turning his head away to look over at Bobby while Blaine continued talking about home, going as far as opening his note book and reading out some memorable moments about how his mates Wes and Dan once stole Menkins' plough horse. Kurt laughed and made little vibrating noises at appropriate moments. Somewhere in the time spent trading tales Blaine had pulled out the small pencil that he had shoved down into the front pocket of his jacket and started to lightly sketch on a slightly stained but relatively blank sheet. His eyes were flickering between the paper and the man sitting quietly next to him.

"You're doing it again." Kurt announced, eyes never once leaving Bobby.

Blaine hummed questioningly, tongue sticking just out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on darkening a few important lines.

"You're staring again. What are you doing anyway?" Blaine smiled sheepishly at Kurt, who had now turned to face him head on, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever the other man was doing.

"Oh. Just sketching you."

Kurt looked legitimately shocked. His mouth dropping open before he seemed to pull himself together and stutter out a shaky "Why?" as Blaine stopped to think deeply.

"I…" He started, looking up to where the night sky had started to peak through the heavy screen of gun smoke, before answering truthfully.

"I want to be reminded of something beautiful."

Blaine smiled over at Kurt, who was blushing but also seemed to be preening, patting down his hair and tugging at the cuffs of his uniform. A small smile played on his lips as Blaine continued to draw.

The artillery barrage had stopped. No Man's land had become suspiciously quiet, something that put Blaine on edge. However, next to him Kurt had started to nod off, his arms wrapped tightly across his middle as his head would fall forward and then right back up as he snapped himself awake. It was really cute.

Blaine threw and arm around the man's shoulders, finally realizing just how thin Kurt really was as he pulled him closer, tucking him into his side. The water swished around their calves and Kurt stiffened for a second before melting into the warmth that Blaine provided.

"It's alright if you want to rest." He mumbled as he rolled his shoulder urging Kurt to use it as a makeshift pillow, which he did. Kurt yawned out a small opposition which quickly died when his head finally settled on Blaine's collar bone.

"How do I know you won't kill me in my sleep, huh?"

Blaine chuckled in response but it sounded hollow and pathetic, even to his own ears.

"Don't worry. I've had about enough death today."

He watched a little longer as the dead man's legs continued to bob around in the water.

* * *

**September 19****th****, 1918 – Battle of Epehy**

**Kurt**

The sun was shining when Kurt woke the next morning. The bright early morning rays almost blinding from the lack of sunshine in recent days. Kurt groaned and shifted closer to the warmth at his side, content to fall back to sleep.

Before Kurt could slip back into unconsciousness, it hit him where he was and his eyes snapped open, glancing around the shell hole he sat in, his head still resting on Blaine's shoulder. Kurt craned his neck to look at Blaine, and smiled at what he saw.

Blaine was sleeping his eyelashes splayed across his cheekbones as he dreamt of god knows what. A small, content smile graced his features as he slept. Blaine shuffled in his sleep squeezing Kurt closer, then suddenly relaxing letting his arm fall to his side. He looked so peaceful and happy that Kurt didn't have the heart to wake him. Instead Kurt let himself indulge in the feeling of being in another man's arms for a few moments longer, something he was sure was never going to happen again.

After a minute Kurt reluctantly started to pull himself from Blaine's embrace, being careful not to wake him.

Once he was free, he scanned the shell hole again his eyes landing on Bobby who lay on his perch staring at Kurt with open, expressionless eyes. Kurt shivered; it was worse now actually being able to see Bobby. Kurt now noticed that the man had a large wound on his chest which was probably the reason he lost his life, at least until he noticed that Bobby was missing a foot. Averting his gaze, from the poor, dead British soldier Kurt turned his attentions back to Blaine who was now sleeping with his mouth hanging open.

Kurt chuckled at Blaine who was smacking his lips as he dreamed. Shaking his head, Kurt caught sight of Blaine's book sitting on his stomach. Kurt reached for it, opening it to the page that was marked by the pencil Blaine used. Kurt's breath caught as he gazed at Blaine's sketch of him. It was as if he looked into a mirror, but there was something that seemed off with the picture to Kurt but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Shaking himself from his thoughts Kurt grabbed the pencil and wrote a quick note to Blaine on the adjacent page. It was nothing special but he felt the need to write a small thank you to Blaine after all they had been through the night before. After rereading his note several times Kurt marked the page with the pencil before placing the book back on Blaine's knee.

Shuffling slightly in the water Kurt moved to a squatting position, wincing as his joints cracked from the misuse. Kurt went to grab his rifle when he remembered that the gun was useless from all of the mud clogging the barrel. Scanning the hole Kurt's eyes landed on Blaine's rifle sitting against the opposite wall. The rifle was practically calling Kurt's name so he decided that he would take it, not that it would really do him much good since he was such a poor shot but at least he would have something to remind him of Blaine.

Kurt scrambled to grab Blaine's rifle and secure his pack, before moving quietly through the ankle deep water to the embankment, getting ready to pull himself out of the hole and unfortunately leave the man behind him.

Kurt knew that he should technically be taking Blaine as a prisoner of war, but he couldn't bear the thought of what would happen to the man if he did. Blaine had spared his life, so Kurt would do the same. That's all there was to it.

Placing a hand on the wet mud of the wall to begin his assent, Kurt turned to take a final look at the man sleeping in the pool of water, and decided it wasn't quite time to leave. Turning on his heel Kurt went back to Blaine's side telling himself that he needed something else of Blaine's, some memento that would always be his. Something that couldn't be taken away as easily as a rifle could, something small enough he could keep it on his person without anyone else being aware.

Since Blaine didn't bring a pack, Kurt searched Blaine's uniform for something he could take that wouldn't be missed. Scanning his jacket he contemplated whether a button would do, but soon thought against it when he remembered that the cold season would be setting in, and the last thing he wanted was for Blaine to be cold. Turing his gaze upward Kurt noticed the letters RF, in gold, on Blaine's lapel. It was his battalion pin, something of little value, that Kurt could take as a trinket to remember Blaine.

Smiling at his find, Kurt carefully ripped the pin from Blaine's collar, making sure not to wake him as he struggled with the thread holding the pin on. After a few moments, Kurt held the small gold pin in his hand, tracing a finger over the letters once before putting it inside his breast pocket. He sat for a moment just watching the rise and fall of Blaine's chest, entranced by the soft movement of his long lashes against his cheeks.

Sighing Kurt decided that it was time for him to leave, since he was now becoming borderline crazy over a man he had only just meet hours before under the most insane of circumstances. But god did it pain him to do so.

Placing a gentle hand on Blaine's muddy cheek, he leaned forward to place a simple kiss to his forehead.

"If only we could have met another way…" Kurt mumbled against Blaine's soft skin.

Before he could change his mind again Kurt rose, and began to climb the embankment, with Blaine's rifle slung over his right shoulder, and Blaine's pin close to his heart.

Once he was over the edge, Kurt paused to get one last look at Blaine. "Stay safe." He whispered, before sprinting back to his trench with a sad smile on his lips.

* * *

**Blaine**

Blaine woke with a start. The guns had started to go off again, only this time it was a ways off so it was easy to figure out that most likely another division to the north had been sent out into the fray.

"Hey, Kurt, I think that…" His words quickly died when he realized that the other man was no longer there, snuggled into his side where he should have been. Blaine started to wonder just when the boy had left and why hadn't he woken him to say good bye. For a moment his mind was wracked with worry. What if he hadn't made it back to his own trench? What if the British had retaliated for the German's creeping night barrage? What if Kurt had forgotten his way back to his trench and had wandered to close to their side and gotten shot?

Blaine had to stop and take a deep, calming breath, which is when he noticed that his gun, which had spent the night sitting alongside the bloated body that had been warmly named Bobby, was now gone. The bastard had stolen his gun.

A hearty laugh escaped him and he had to throw his head back, relishing in the first rays of sunshine that he had seen in the last few months. Kurt was going to be just fine. The little sneak was smarter than anyone probably ever gave him credit for.

Starting to stand up, Blaine reached down to retrieve his journal that he had specifically placed on his stomach the night before, before falling asleep curled into Kurt. The pencil was still lodged in the book, dividing the pages. Blaine flipped it open to the same page that he had meticulously tried to sketch the German in dark. On the page opposite Blaine's drawing, written in the most attractive scribble that Blaine had ever seen there was a note.

* * *

_Dear Blaine,_

_It feels odd writing a farewell letter to someone I hardly know, but I wanted to say thank you for not killing me when you had so many chances to do so. Maybe, this is a little forward of me to say but I felt that we had a connection. _

_I wish you the best of luck in this war, and my hope is that we will both make it out alive, where we can maybe see each other again in much more accommodating circumstances. You are a kind and charming man, that is truly gifted I only hope the best for you._

_Keep your head down and stay safe._

_Your German Friend, _

_Kurt Hummel_

_P.S. You sure are a flatterer, because this picture you drew of me looks nothing like me. _

* * *

With a wide smile stretched across his face Blaine snapped the journal shut, readjusted his helmet and give Bobby a quick two finger salute, swearing that for a moment the corpse seemed to be smiling, before hoisting himself up and out of the shell hole. He made his way quickly across the still ghastly looking landscape with a jaunty step in his walk and a more subdued grin.


	5. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! We are SO, SO sorry for the long wait but...yeah, all we can say is real life sucks. But the one good thing from real life is we got together for a weekend and we have outlines for much of what will be happening! YAY FOR PROGRESS!**

**Anyways, I'm not sure if all of you are aware of the crazy shenanigans that FF is doing with deleting M-rated stories, so if something crazy does happen we do have the story posted on LiveJournal and Scarves and Coffee, with links to those through our tumblr at ( ijugglepotatoes . tumblr . com ).**

**This chapter is quite short and does some mild time-jumping so pay attention to the dates (sorry!). But! We have the next two chapters written, they just need to be edited, so look for the next chapter by Thursday (ish). **

**Finally, thanks to out kind and wonderful Beta for making us sound less awkward both in this story and in real life. We love you!**

**Disclaimer: It's not ours, look to Fox and RIB for that. Don't sue!**

* * *

**September 19th, 1918 - No Man's Land**

**Blaine**

The closer Blaine got towards his side of the battle field the louder the guns sounded, the hotter the smoke felt, the darker the sky became and the more his grin fell. With each step his boots sunk lower into the damp ground with a distinctive slurp. It was something he had become more or less accustomed to, so he knew to tilt his body opposite to the slope of the butchered ground.

The bodies dangling over the rusted and twisted entrapments looked too fresh. Their uniforms identified them as German. Blaine had to crouch down to avoid detection from either side. Friendly fire was a serious issue and after deciding that he really wasn't up to dying anymore he didn't want to risk it. Instead he scrambled in a wide arc, avoiding the areas densely populated with corpses that had become only decomposed sludge and picked over skeletons gently laid in large piles. It had been awhile since any living thing had passed by these parts. Most likely, the trench he was working his way toward was empty, however, Blaine was certain that he was only a short way south of where his company was situated so it wouldn't take long to join up and the jog would be predominantly safe.

What would happen once he'd returned was another thing altogether.

On top of going bat-shit crazy and charging straight into the line of fire without orders, he had threatened a fellow solider. At best he would be reprimanded, maybe demoted or discharged without honours and at worst he would be shot for acts of treason.

Blaine crawled over yet another entanglement that had been shredded and twisted in the action of previous weeks before he finally spotted the rotting sandbags that marked the top of the trench wall. With a tight grimace he slumped his way closer. The bottoms of his pants snagged on an exposed piece of wire causing him to jerk and stumble forward, tumbling face first into thick pools of dark mud with a brief cry of panic. He coughed, raising his face and spitting out most of what had made its way into his mouth but the gritty feeling between his teeth remained. Cursing loudly Blaine pulled himself up on his elbows and looked back to where his leg dangled on the wire. He jiggled his leg about, tugging it forward until he was satisfied by the loud rip that meant that he was now free again.

Inside the trench was a sad sight. The place had been abandoned weeks ago but sad little trinkets and pieces of rusty equipment remained sitting in shallow, stagnant pools of muddy water along the bottom where large fat rats scurry about trying to avoid been trampled on by his feet. This section was narrower than what he was used to, and silently he pitied the poor retches that had had to live here, reaching out both arms his fingertips brushed the mud and duckboard walls. This made it easier to follow.

Around one corner he found his first body. It was a man slumped over in a thick green wool jacket which had started to discolour because of the decomp that soaked through. Blaine could feel the jerky trying to make its way up when he noticed that the man's fingers had been gnawed away by hungry little scavengers. Those fleshy bits were usually the first to go, luckily for Blaine the man had been wearing a mask so he didn't have to see what his face looked like.

Blaine nodded in the man's direction before moving on.

Unfortunately Blaine overestimated where his division had been situated, in the end it took several long hours to reach his destination and by the time he had finally returned the sun had disappeared behind the grey clouds that threatened another torrential downpour. He could hear the soft murmur of men going about their daily lives within the watery foxhole, shuffling about and lighting cigarettes. The loud booms and spitfire snaps of guns continued to be heard in the distance but seemed to be largely ignored.

He waved slightly at the first living person he crossed paths with since the young German man had crept away sometime the night before. The man, no older then Blaine himself looked briefly horrified before seemingly realizing that Blaine wasn't a member of the walking dead returning to duty.

"Good god mate, you alright?" he asked in his thick Australian accent. Blaine waved off his concern but not before looking down at himself and finally noticing that he was covered, absolutely slathered, in thick mud that had started to dry. He wiped at his face and grimaced at the feeling of the grime caked into his stubble. By now, the man was starting to lose interest in Blaine's magical reappearance in the trench. His dark rimmed eyes seemed to dart about and his fingers were twitching. Blaine decided to keep their meeting short, understanding that the man needed a fix.

"How far in is the eighteenth?"

The guy's eyes turned back to Blaine questioningly but didn't ask, deciding that it was Blaine's own business. That was one good thing that seemed to come from the war was people tended to mind their own affairs and never questioned longing looks sent in the direction of some very attractive majors.

"Oh, they moved up another hundred. Keep going and you'll find them a little worse for wear." Blaine muttered a soft thanks and started to move away before stopping, turning and calling back to the boy who turned around as well, confusion etched on his sunken face.

"Thanks for the help. Sorry they're both a little soggy and squished." He tossed the last pack of cigarettes he had been hoarding in his breast pocket. The Australian caught it easily, a bright smile curling on his thin lips.

"Thanks mate." He smiled and Blaine returned it before continuing on his way with more pep in his step and feeling just a little lighter.

As the man had said Blaine found his division a hundred meters down. Each battalion looking a little more battered, bruised and picked over.

"Well, look what the cat dragged back in."

* * *

**October 26th, 1918 - German Trenches**

**Kurt**

Kurt hated the fact that he was back in the trenches but at least it had stopped raining for a few hours earlier in the day allowing the men some relief. It was quiet at the moment as the sun began to set in the west, giving the men a needed break.

Kurt was repacking his bag getting things organized before he had to go back over the top. Most of the men were talking, while some sat quietly writing home. Kurt listened to the conversations and joined in to offer the men some dry matches when they had run out.

Most of the conversations seemed to revolve around his new rifle, which was once Blaine's. It was a magnificent weapon, not that Kurt knew much about guns, but by the way the men were talking, and from what he had seen in no man's land it was deadly. Polishing the rifle, Kurt made sure it shined. He was determined to keep the gun in good shape, not because it was his most prized possession but because he needed it to survive.

Kurt's most prized possession resided in his breast pocket. The small, gold battalion pin that had once graced Blaine's lapel was now tucked away close to Kurt's heart. Anytime Kurt felt scared or lonely he would place his hand over the button, close his eyes and think of Blaine.

Smiling to himself as he finished packing his bag, he grabbed a couple pairs of stolen socks and threw them in at the top of his pack, making sure that he would have them ready for when he needed them most. Suddenly, an explosion went off in no man's land. Shielding his face with his arm, Kurt moved quickly to avoid the debris that fell into the trench.

As if on queue all the men stood and grabbed their gear as they got ready to go over the top again. The shells started to fall more frequently landing alarmingly close to the trench. Kurt clutched at the pin as his heart started beating at an alarming rate, grabbing Blaine's gun he made his way to the ladder and climbed the rungs.

Kurt took a moment to get his bearings then started running towards the British troops praying that he wouldn't find Blaine anywhere, because he knew he would do something that he would regret.

The echo of shells exploding could be heard for miles. While parts of earth were sent flying, Kurt could hear the whizzing sounds of the bullets. Yet this wasn't what filled Kurt with dread. That was the haunting sounds of the pain-filled screams of the injured and dying men falling as they ran towards their enemies; the sounds piercing his eardrums. He always had the urge to cover his ears in hope of trying to keep the noise from creeping in.

He did his best to ignore the sounds and kept running. Running until he felt a sharp pain in his left thigh as he once again tumbled into a shell hole. He had a feeling that this time things were not going to go as well.

* * *

**September 19th, 1918 – British Trenches**

**Blaine **

Blaine didn't fight when two large MP's simultaneously grabbed his biceps, forcing both his arms behind his back while another stepped in front and searched him over for any weapons or anything that could be used as. He reached into Blaine's jacket and yanked out the journal, which remarkably didn't have a smudge of mud on its binding, and flipped through the pages not really taking anything. Blaine reacted badly, twisting and writhing in the grasp of the two large soldiers who cursed and increased their hold until he was sure that there would be some angry bruises.

"Clam down now, Anderson." Captain Sandy Ryerson walked around, an ugly smirk on his doughy face. Since becoming the commanding officer he had set his sights on degrading and belittling Blaine and his mates any chance that he could get. Blaine wanted to punch the look right off his face but however tempting that would just get him into even more trouble. Instead he stopped struggling and the thin MP holding his journal tugged his jacket open and shoved the book back in.

"Now listen up Anderson, because you're in a lot of trouble." A small crowd had started to gather and out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of an ashen-faced Trent and a light-lipped Nick standing in the growing throng.

Blaine didn't answer Ryerson, not that the older man would have cared either way as he continued on reading off all of Blaine's newest infractions, humming and hawing over just what the punishment would be.

"…and a little birdy told me that you turned on a fellow soldier." That caught Blaine off guard. Hushed whispers surrounded them and Trent seemed to grow a shade paler. An accusation like that, if proven, would mean that Blaine had committed an act of treason and thus was eligible for a fitting death by firing squad. The reality of war had almost literally smacked Blaine upside the head, so he realized that he would most likely die here, but not this way. For a sinking moment Blaine thought of his mother's tear streaked face and his father's disapproving glare. They had already lost Copper. The shame this would cause would be unbearable and Blaine's existence would be swept under the rug, but oh, how the neighbours would talk.

Blaine would pray that the German boy, Kurt, would never hear of this.

"What about it, Duval? Anything you want to say?" Ryerson affectively turned all attention onto Nick, who, even though was largely disliked by the captain, was tolerated. The boy had a pinched expression on his thin face when he looked over at Blaine who met it head on and nodded, readying himself for the answer. It was obvious that Nick was still angry but they were friends and they had each other's back at all times.

"Sorry, Sir, I didn't think that birds could survive down around here." Loud hearty chuckles accompanied the reply and for a brief moment Nick cracked a smile. Ryerson's face went beet red and he had started making those wheezing, squawking noises that his subordinates joked about behind his back.

"Well t-then." He stuttered "Don't think you're getting out of this, Anderson." He spit the name out as if it was something rotten that had crawled its way into his mouth.

"You're punishment will be swift and excruciating. Mark my words, Anderson, you're going to pay for your insubordination." With that he turned around and stomped his way back towards the sad little rooms that officers seemed to treasure, the MPs pushing Blaine forward to follow.

"Wait. Please." The man that had patted Blaine down stopped and cocked a thin eyebrow, without words he basically demanded that Blaine tell him what was causing this delay.

"In my right pocket there's a lighter. Will you let me give it to my mate?"

He grunted and rolled his eyes but shoved his skeleton like hand into the pocket; Blaine had to hold back the urge to shiver in distaste. Nick was looking at Blaine with another alien look on his face but took the lighter without either of them saying anything before Blaine was once again pushed forward and away from the crowd.

He didn't know if he'd ever see the others again, but he figured if he were to die, this made them even.

* * *

**October 26th, 1918 – No Man's Land**

**Kurt**

Kurt emerged from the waist-deep water, spitting the filth from his mouth and trying to keep his body upright, as he winced from the pain shooting up his left thigh.

The pain was excruciating. Kurt placed one hand on his thigh, feeling the exposed flesh of the bullet wound. Groaning, he shuffled his body to the embankment to secure himself from falling into the water once more.

Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, being shot in the leg was not a fun experience, no matter what anyone said. It definitely wasn't glorifying as his general said it was, and it definitely doesn't make a man braver in the spur of the moment. No, being shot just makes you scared, bleeding and in pain, crying to the powers that be to make the pain of the metal invading the delicate skin go away.

However, Kurt kept his cries in; he knew that making a sound could lead to the end of his life if he was found by the wrong man. Instead, Kurt just lay as still as possible in this shell hole, so similar but so different from the one he had shared with Blaine weeks ago, bleeding from his leg while the filthy water engulfed his lower body.

Taking a shaky breath, Kurt could feel the first tears fall from his eyes, leaving a stain on his muddy face as he bit the inside of his cheek to ensure that the sounds of his sobs would not be heard. But it wasn't helping, the temptation to grab the blade on the end of his gun grew as the pain intensified with even the slightest movement, yet he refused to take his life when there was still a lingering chance of his survival.

The sounds of gunshots kept blaring overhead, intertwining with the screams of the dying to make the most horrifying lullaby known to man. It was to these sounds that Kurt started to lose consciousness.

His mind wandered back to faces of his family.

Kurt's strong and supportive father working in the shop with his balding head covered by a cap. His striking blue eyes glittering with mirth as his boy teased the younger sisters.

Little Anna twirling to see her new dress (a gift from her favourite brother, of course) spin around her legs, while her auburn hair whips around her head.

Headstrong Lena would shake her head as her two siblings would bicker and tease one another, then light up as soon as her fiancé, Noah, showed up at the doors of the shop.

The last thing that crossed Kurt's mind as he drifted off into a painful sleep was that of a British man, whose hazel eyes stared at him without wavering. His strong calloused hands holding Kurt's, as he finally fell asleep on his broad shoulder.


	6. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Well, only slightly later than promised, here it is! **

**This chapter and the next are quite Kurt centric, but that will be followed by one or two Blaine centric chapters. So it all evens out. **

**We have the next chapter written already, it just needs to be edited. So, we're planning on having it out on Monday evening. **

**For those who like weird random trivia, Kurt got shot on our Beta's birthday, exactly 81 years before she was born. So, Happy Birthday Becks!**

**Finally, please review! Each one is like a little packet of love delivered via the internet. **

**Disclaimer: It's not ours. Please don't sue. We're broke enough as it is.**

* * *

**October 28th, 1918 - German Hospital**

**Kurt**

It was the feeling of heavy fog being lifted as Kurt slowly opened his eyes. The pain in his left leg was dull but lingering. Kurt lifted his head and took in his surroundings, dreading the thought that he was still lying in filth, bleeding into the water.

Yet when he fully opened his eyes he saw that he was instead lying on a cot, with a cotton blanket tucked into the sides of his mattress. Instantly his mind relaxed, he was now far from no man's land and secure in a warm bed with a pillow under his head.

Kurt attempted to clear his head with a quick shake but instead was greeted with a throbbing pain. He was trying to figure out how he had gotten to the comfort of a bed when the last thing he remembered was the scent of his own blood mixed with the rotting smell of the battlefield.

It was then that a terrifying thought crossed his mind, what if it was only a dream? What if he still was in that hole waiting for death? Not in a warm bed, but instead hallucinating from the pain?

Gathering some courage Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath as he moved his hand to pinch his good leg, just to make sure it wasn't a dream. Kurt flinched as he dug his nails into the sensitive skin of his right thigh. With a great sigh he relaxed and his mind settled. He was safe from the trenches, at least for the time being.

Kurt tried to shuffle on the cot and find a more comfortable position but he only succeeded in causing himself more pain. Groaning in frustration Kurt gave up, staring at the ceiling as tears started to prickle at the back of his eyes.

"Nurse Fabray, the kid's awake." A voice called from Kurt's right. Swinging his head, he saw a man sitting up in his cot, a book open in his lap, looking at Kurt with a bright smile.

Kurt groaned at the sudden movement, cursing quietly under his breath.

The man let out a hardy chuckle, "Nice to see you're awake, kid. Just take it easy until the pretty nurse looks you over." The man winked as he turned his attention to the nurse that was hurrying to Kurt's bedside.

Following the man's gaze Kurt saw a young woman wearing a white dress coming over to his side, her bright white cap sitting on top of her blonde hair which was styled in the latest fashion. She wore a kind smile and approached Kurt's bed with a look of concern in her eyes.

The nurse placed one of her delicate hands on his shoulder, "Herr Hummel?" Kurt looked into bright green eyes, giving a dainty smile in acknowledgment. The nurse gave a small smile in return, "How are you feeling? Any pain?"

"Well, of course he's in pain. He got shot." the man in the next bed offered the Nurse.

The nurse sighed, giving a pointed look to the other man, "Honestly, Lieutenant-"

"Rolph."

The nurse glared at Rolph. "Lieutenant Kraus," She reiterated, her voice growing stern "now is not the time." She said shaking her head as she turned her attention back to Kurt, all signs of annoyance leaving her face as she asked him again if he had any pain.

Kurt quickly analyzed his tired body, starting from his toes and working his way up to his skull. "My head and my left leg," he slurred, "but it's more of a throbbing than anything else." He assured her as she looked at Kurt with pity in her eyes.

"I can get you some pain medication," she said as she reached for his chart at the foot of his bed marking something down. "And while I'm at it I'll let the doctor know that you are awake." She said more to herself than to Kurt.

She smiled patting his good leg as she placed his chart back at the foot of the bed, then looked pointedly into his eyes "You should get some more rest, Private. I'll be back with your medication in a few minutes."

Kurt gave the young woman a weak smile, as he leaned his head back into the pillow, his eyes growing heavy. It didn't take long for Kurt to lull into a dream about the warm hazel eyes of an Englishman named Blaine.

* * *

_Kurt and Blaine were sitting in a green meadow lying in each other's arms as they watched the clouds drift past looking for various figures. The young men would stare into each other's eyes, laughing at the ridiculous shapes that they found. As a silence came between them Blaine looked deep into Kurt's eyes causing a blush to grace his cheek. Blaine gave Kurt a crooked grin as he gently brushed his knuckles across the flushed skin of Kurt's cheek. That smile along with his touch sent pleasant chills down Kurt's spine, as he waited for Blaine to lean forward to plant a soft kiss against his lips._

* * *

Kurt was vaulted out of his dream by the firm shaking of his shoulder by a soft hand. A female voice pulled him the rest of the way to awake. "Herr Hummel? Herr Hummel?" Kurt groaned and opened his eyes to see the same young nurse again. A part of him wanted to hate her for interrupting his fantasies, but then he remembered as a flash of pain shot up his leg that she would have the medication he craved.

As if reading his thoughts she produced two small pills. Kurt struggled to sit up in his bed, but succeeded with the help of Nurse Fabray once she noticed he was floundering.

Kurt once again was confused as to why he was so exhausted from such a small movement as he became settled against the wall with a pillow behind his back. There was obviously something that he was missing that no one seemed to be telling him.

The nurse poured him a glass of water, from the jug on the bedside table between himself and Rolph. "Here, you are Private." She dropped the pills in his outstretched palm, watching him as he threw the pills back, nodding his thanks.

Smiling, Nurse Fabray handed him the glass. "Slowly." She warned as Kurt began to take large gulps of the water.

When he'd drained the glass, the nurse placed it back on the side table.

"The doctor should be here shortly, he's-"

"Giving one of the nurses a checkup." Rolph quipped. His smile grew at the look of complete shock on the Nurse Fabray's face.

"No, actually, he's in an emergency surgery." She said with a hint of sarcasm before her face grew somber, as she turned her stern green eyes on Rolph, "Your subordinate, private Schuester started to hemorrhage."

All of the laughter left Rolph's eyes. "He better be as good of a doctor he says he is. I refuse to lose another of my men."

"He's doing his best." The woman assured him, giving Rolph a comforting smile.

Without a word Rolph flopped back in his bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Just ignore him, he's moody." Nurse Fabray joked as she began to check Kurt's vitals.

A snorting noise came from Rolph's bed, "Nurse Fabray, let me remind you I lost a leg, not my hearing." He retaliated, turning his body towards them.

Completely surprised by Rolph's words, Kurt turned to truly look at man. Something he hadn't done yet because he was still regaining his coherency.

Rolph was a powerfully built man, who had a head of brown hair cut in a traditional manor. His brown eyes shone with amusement at Kurt's sudden interest. Shifting his eyes lower Kurt saw what Rolph was jesting about; he was indeed missing a part of his right leg, ending just below the knee.

Suddenly feeling awful for staring Kurt turned his attention back to Rolph's face, whose eye's still seemed amused.

"You're a lucky one, Private," Rolph smiled weakly.

Kurt nodded, feeling utterly ashamed that he had been wallowing in self-pity earlier when others were suffering far worse than himself.

"Enough, Rolph." Nurse Fabray said sternly.

"It's fine," Kurt spoke up, his voice sounding hoarse from misuse.

He looked between the two of them, watching as Nurse Fabray gave Rolph an icy glare before turning to look at Kurt's chart. She mumbled under her breath at how he was "the most annoying man she had ever met."

Rolph on the other hand had maneuvered himself into a sitting position once again, while a wolfish grin played on his lips. "Rolph...you know, Nurse, you never call me Rolph."

Nurse Fabray froze, as a small blush started to rise on her cheeks. "I-It was a slip of the tongue." She stuttered turning her bright green eyes back to Rolph, "it won't happen again I can assure you Lieutenant."

Rolph's smile grew at the nurse's unease.

"Now, if only I could know what your name is..."

Nurse Fabray rolled her eyes, "You know very well I can't give you my name-"

A commotion from the far end of the room ended the banter between the two of them. Kurt watched as a gurney was being moved to another room; a body laid on top was covered from head to toe by a reddened blanket.

"Another one." Rolph whispered shaking his head.

Nurse Fabray heaved a great sigh before lowering herself to sit at the foot of the bed.

"It seems like it never ends..." she murmured.

"It won't." Kurt said, startling the two of them from their quite moment. "It won't end until someone wins this damn war or we all die trying."

* * *

**October, 1918 - British Field Hospital **

**Blaine**

Blaine hadn't really argued at his makeshift trial, in fact he hadn't said anything at all. Not about Cooper, his night in No Man's land or Kurt. Those things, though not actually secrets, were something that he would keep to himself for the rest of his life.

The whole thing lasted over two hours. Blaine had been marched in with two intimidating MPs on either side and was forced to stand in the middle of a shabby looking room while stuffy older men in stiff and polished uniforms conversed. In the end he found himself lucky. Not only was he not going to have to face the firing squad but he wasn't about to be dishonourably discharged either. Rather he was being demoted and removed from the front lines for 'actions deemed to be insubordinate'. It was a slap on wrist and Blaine knew it was the best thing he could have hoped for, so he thanked them with a very straight face only once breaking his stoic composure to flash a smug smirk in the direction of a fuming Sandy Ryerson who cursed and hollered before being subdued by another officer. Blaine was unceremoniously dragged back out the door he had come in.

The 'stationary hospital', which despite its name was really just a definite field hospital, was located close enough the Somme river that on clear and quite nights the ringing of the guns could still be heard. The place could hold up to four hundred wounded but six hundred could be squeezed in if needed and Blaine rarely every saw less than three quarters of the makeshift beds full. He was now a stretcher bearer, far away from the action but not far enough from the groans and cries of dying men.

Officially he worked under the lead medical officer, a sergeant that he had yet to meet. Unofficially the ruler of the roost was Head Nurse Beiste, a formidable woman that seemed more wrestler then nurse. She towered over the other women but could do twice the work in half the time, still in an orderly fashion. Behind her back everyone, including the multitude of injured soldiers, joked that if not restricted by her gender (which was debatable) Beiste could have won the war herself. The German's would take one look at her and throw down all their weapons. She was a strict woman, who had taken one look at Blaine and demanded he roll up his selves and help hold down one man who was shaking and cursing, so she could jab a sever looking needle into his forearm.

His partner was a short, thin, Irish boy named Rory Flanagan. He wasn't very good at the lifting part of this job but he seemed to want to help in any way possible. After one look at his baby face and bright smile, his regiment had decided to leave him here to aid the wounded rather than have him face the front lines. Blaine was thankful for this. It had been obvious after having spent twenty minutes alone with the boy that Rory had been lying about his age when he told his recruiting sergeants that he was eighteen. The boy was slight and could barely hold up his end of the stretcher. He couldn't have been older then sixteen and he was getting them a reputation as the least-desirable pair of stretcher-carriers in the entire British army.

"Well, you see. There's a girl." Rory had started. They had been partners for close to a month now and Blaine felt that they were at that point where he could ask the hard questions. At that moment they had tucked themselves away into a dusty and dim corner were Rory had relighted a slightly crushed fag and Blaine munched on a stale biscuit Beiste had forced on him earlier. Their stretcher was leaning next to them against the wall. Blaine nodded and made an encouraging hum.

"Her name's Sugar and she's the prettiest thing I've ever seen." The kid had gotten this far-off and dopy look, and Blaine couldn't help but feel warmth spread through his chest. Rory was just precious, like a little brother he had never known he wanted. It was getting to know Rory that made Blaine realize that it was okay for him to be getting over Cooper being dead. It's what his brother would have wanted. However, some mornings when he was still groggy with sleep, the familiar soul-crushing punch-to-the-gut made him want to scream and lash out.

"Alright. So, what does that have to do with lying to join the army?" Rory flushed bright red and seemed to find the remnants of his last drag to be very interesting. Blaine pushed for more, kicking the kid lightly in shin with the tip of his newest pair of boots. These ones were now only one size larger than his feet. If he wore two pairs of socks he didn't even notice the extra space.

"She doesn't know me." He confided in a small voice as Blaine sighed, already getting the gist of what this meant.

"Rory, have you ever actually talked to this girl?" he asked, his voice strained. The continual blush that decorated Rory's rounded face answered for him and Blaine had to try and hold back another sigh.

"Let me guess. That's a no. So you joined the army thinking that will get her attention but you've never actually even spoken to her." Rory just nodded and this left Blaine in a state of almost hysterics.

"Oh, you dumb fuck." He choked out "You bloody idiot. You're willing to die in this fucking shit hole so some girl would notice you!"

Rory got redder by the moment, his eyes darting about to make sure that no one was actually paying attention to their conversation. He dropped the remnants of his fag, stepping on the still smoldering end with a huff as Blaine continued to laugh wildly.

"She's not just some girl! She's _the_ girl!"

Blaine tried to get himself under control, finally realizing that he had upset the kid. That hadn't been his intention but the situation had seemed so unbelievable, so ridiculous, that he let the humour of it all get the best of him.

"I get it." Rory didn't seem to believe him but he allowed Blaine to continue uninterrupted. "You're in love with her. So here is what you're going to do."

The boy seemed interested in what Blaine, who was both older and wiser, was about to say. It was obvious that in his mind Blaine was suave and most likely had his own sweetheart, or many, back home. He couldn't have been more further from the truth, but Blaine had caught the boy staring intently each and every time he had been eyeing the smudged sketch of Kurt and let the boy just think what he wanted.

"You're going to go back. You're going to survive and go back to Dublin. Then you're going to tell her that you love her! Do you hear me, kid? YOU TELL HER!" He practically shouted the last bit before reaching out and ruffling the younger man's dark hair, a small smile stretching across his face. Rory groaned and pushed the offending limb away.

"Anderson, Flanagan! Back to work." Beiste's voice seemed to reverberate around the room, snapping the two out of their moment and drawing in the attention of some conscious and coherent casualties, all who groaned loudly the moment they saw Blaine and Rory reach for their stretcher.

* * *

**October 29th, 1918 – German Hospital**

**Kurt**

It was a few hours later that the doctor finally came to Kurt's bedside to talk to him about his injury, he was a dark haired man that was about six feet tall. He was quite handsome, with a strong jawline, and large brown eyes. But the poor man looked as if he hadn't slept in days, his uniform was wrinkled and the sleeves were spotted with blood.

The doctor smiled sweetly at the nurses as he walked by earning himself a number of shy glances and blushing cheeks from the women, and it seemed that Nurse Fabray was no exception.

She blushed as the doctor came up to her side placing a hand at the small of her back talking quietly into her ear as he glanced over Kurt's chart.

Rolph, however, didn't seem so enthused with the situation and cleared his throat to gain the attention of the two medical personnel. He glared at the doctor while he moved to sit up, frowning at Nurse Fabray as she turned her attention to the frayed blanket covering Kurt's feet.

"What happened to Private Schuester?" Rolph asked sternly, his eyes returning to the doctors.

The doctor sighed as he ran a hand through his dark hair, "I'm sorry but I did what I could, he was already too far gone to do anything more."

Kurt turned to look at Rolph, who had closed his eyes, leaned his back against the wall and was taking some deep, calming breaths.

Nurse Fabray moved to sit on the foot of Rolph's bed placing a hand on his good leg in comfort. "I'm so sorry, Lieutenant-"

"Miss Fabray, do you mind fetching me some new linens for Private Hummel?" the doctor asked leering at Rolph. "I would like to have his wound redressed."

"Of course, Captain." She said giving Rolph's leg one last squeeze before she left in search of bandages.

"I'm Captain Carl Howell" the doctor said as he moved to stand on Kurt's left side to inspect his leg. He carefully stared to remove the bandage, revealing an angry wound that was stitched together with a skilled hand. "Well, you're a lucky one, Private Hummel. The bullet nicked your femoral artery, causing you to lose quite a bit of blood, but we were able to stabilize you pretty quickly once you were sent to us."

Kurt just stared at the man as he began to ramble about Kurt's injury, nodding and humming at the appropriate times. But Kurt only half listened, his mind was running around with the notion that he may be injured enough to get sent home. Something he hadn't dared to think about for months.

"-you were unconscious for a few days because of your blood loss. Which is normal, but unfortunately during your move you developed a mild infection in the leg and we had to remove a small amount of flesh. We caught it early enough that there shouldn't be any permanent damage and your body seems to be clearing up the rest very well." Doctor Howell continued, stopping to accept the bandages that Nurse Fabray offered him, before he began to rebound his leg.

"Now with the injury to your leg, you may have a slight limp," Captain Howell finished tying the cloth. "I can't determine whether it will be permanent. And since I can't say whether you're walking will be affected I'm going to sign the papers for you to be discharged..."

Kurt stopped listening after he heard that one word. He was never going to have to live in the trenches again. He could go home and sleep in his own bed. He could see his family, and begin his life again.

"Private?" Captain Howell asked with a raised eyebrow. "Are you alright?"

Kurt observed the doctor in confusion. "I'm sorry?" He asked, looking at Rolph for clarification.

"You're crying, kid." He stated simply, a look of understanding on his face.

Raising a hand to his cheek, Kurt felt the tears that were falling from his eyes. He glanced back at Rolph then the doctor and Nurse Fabray, "I-I'm sorry, I just-"

"I understand, kid." Rolph said, giving him a small smile.

Once the words were spoken the floodgates seemed to open as Kurt no longer held back his tears of relief. He was going home.

"You will need to stay for at least a few weeks, so we can get you walking again." Captain Howell explained quickly, "But you will get to go home, as soon as I feel you're able."

Nodding his understanding, Kurt wiped at the tears with the back of his hand. "Thank you, Sir."

"No need to thank me, Private, I'm just trying to do my job." The Captain said, as he turned on his heel and walked towards another bed.

* * *

Nurse Fabray walked up to Kurt's bedside, holding out a couple of pain pills for him.

He smiled and accepted the pills offered, waiting patiently for the glass of water she was pouring. "You're doing quite well." She remarked as she handed him the glass.

Kurt hummed the affirmative, "I just wish the pain would stop." he mumbled, swallowing the pills.

"You are pushing yourself too hard." She half-heartedly teased.

"I have to otherwise I'll never get to leave this place." He said, with a sigh, looking around the dimly lit room.

"You will, Private." She whispered, helping Kurt further into his makeshift bed.

Kurt grimaced as a flash of pain shot through his leg. Once he was situated with his back to the wall and the borrowed book spread open in his lap he scanned Nurse Fabray's face, trying to better understand her. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" She asked, glancing up from her task of tucking Kurt in.

"How do you handle this?" He gestured with his hands to the room around them, where forty makeshift beds lined the two opposite walls. The injured men slept in beds made of boards and crates, with handmade straw mattresses laying on top for some comfort. And the noises of the men groaning in their sleep echoed against the stark white walls.

A small pained smile touched her lips, "It becomes normal, I guess."

Kurt snorted, shaking his head. "So, you're telling me your normal is basically blood and death."

She smiled slightly. "Unfortunately, yes. But sometimes I get to see some of the men get better, like you and the Lieutenant-"

"But then you see some get better only to be sent back." He countered.

Her smile wavered, as she stood shielding her body with her folded arms. She observed Kurt for a moment before she spoke again her voice barely a whisper. "What's it like?"

Kurt stared at her in confusion, "I'm sorry?"

The nurse looked torn for a moment before she grabbed a stool that sat at the edge of Rolph's bed, moving it to sit close to Kurt's head. "What is it like?" she whispered again, glancing around the room to make sure the rest of the men were sleeping around them.

"I really have no idea what you are asking me."

She sighed, obviously growing frustrated with Kurt's lack of understanding. "The trenches, what are the trenches like?"

Kurt stared at Nurse Fabray with wide eyes. She sat patiently waiting for him to respond, her green eyes shining with enthusiasm.

Shaking his head he began to fidget with the lose threads of his blanket. "Why?" he whispered, slowly closing in on himself.

She shrugged. "Because no one will tell me, and how can I help you men if I have no idea what I'm even dealing with."

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Kurt turned his blue eyes to look at Nurse Fabray. "Hell."

He watched as her eyes widened for a moment before a frown grew on her lips. "Hell?"

He nodded. "It's the only way to explain it." Continuing to play with the loose thread of his blanket, "There is nothing like it."

Feeling a dip in the bed, he glanced up from his hands to see Nurse Fabray leaning forward to place her elbows on the mattress.

Letting out another sigh, Kurt turned slightly, which was met by an encouraging smile from Nurse Fabray. "All you need to know is it's hell, the smells, the sounds... No one should have to experience it, but we did..."

Glancing around the room, he listened to the sounds of sniffling and groans of pain from the sleeping men, and they were the_ lucky_ ones. Fixing his eyes back on Nurse Fabray he continued, "We would rather die than go back to that place, and most if not all of the men that do get sent back _will _die in that place."

Kurt watched as her expression turned regretful, "The men don't fight for Germany anymore, we fight for our lives."

"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have asked." She quickly mumbled wiping a stray tear from her eye. "I've made you remember things that you want to forget."

"It's fine." Kurt said simply, watching Nurse Fabray stand and attempt to remove the wrinkles from her uniform.

"I never should have asked..." she mumbled as she replaced the stool, before excusing herself to get back to her duties.

Leaning back against the wall, Kurt let his head fall back as he closed his eyes murmuring to himself, "No, what never should've happened was this damn war."


	7. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: With this chapter, this story blows by the 30,000 word mark, and we thought this was a good place for a fun piece of trivia. This story, in its original imagining, was a three-shot. Just three chapters, which has developed into this behemoth of a story.**

**This is the final bit of the 14,000 word chapter we sent to out beta a week and a half ago. So, huge thanks to her for cutting it up into three coherent chapters. As we've finished what's been pre-written once again, it's a bit harder to give an exact day for an update. But we're thinking the next part should be up by the end of the weekend. As always, you can check out our tumblr for updates on that.**

**As mentioned in the last author's note, this is the second very Kurt-centric chapter. Look for much more Blaine in the next. **

**Thanks to everyone who favourited and alerted this story, just remember reviews are like love, so don't be afraid to leave a few words, whether you love it or hate it.**

**Disclaimer: It's not ours. Don't sue.**

* * *

**November 2nd, 1918 - German Hospital**

**Kurt**

It seemed odd to Kurt that he loved being in the hospital, but he guessed that he enjoyed his days here because he wasn't anywhere near the trenches.

All of the people at the hospital were kind and cheerful. The nurses were always smiling and joking with the wounded soldiers as they went about their duties of giving out medications and changing bandages with their minuscule supplies, always finding a way to bring a smile to the men's faces.

The women had become handy at finding other materials to make the supplies that they lacked. Usually they would turn old, tattered blankets, or even old clothing they could find into bandages to use on the men.

The doctors, on the other hand, were very rarely seen in the recovery ward that Kurt was in, since they were always burdened with the tireless job of patching up the onslaught of men coming from the trenches. However, the few times Kurt had seen the doctors the men looked dead on their feet, walking down the narrow aisle, checking in on their charges.

Captain Howell was one such man. He was always willing to stop and talk to the soldiers, even going so far as to share a smoke with them. He was a likable man; funny, charming, smart, but in spite of that, Kurt wasn't very fond of him. The Captain always had one eye on the nurses, especially Nurse Fabray, whom Kurt had grown very close to, which Kurt supposed was the reason for his dislike of the man.

Doctor Howell seemed to make it his mission to seek the nurse out and make her a flustering mess. Speaking sweet nothings into her ear and trying to persuade her into joining him (as the other nurses would) in the supply closet down the hall. Nurse Fabray, however, would return to her duties, leaving the man looking dumb in her wake. Kurt was sure this was why he liked her so much.

Nurse Fabray was a kind and wonderful woman that all of the soldiers seemed to have fallen in love with, Kurt included (in the most non-romantic sense, of course). She made it her mission to talk to the men and genuinely listen, and since they two of them had grown to be close friends, she made sure that they talked every night after her last check.

Kurt enjoyed their late night conversations. They would talk about everything and anything, their minds could conger from literature, to fashion, to music, and home.

It was in these late night conversations that Kurt learned Nurse Fabray was the same age as him and the youngest daughter of a wealthy family in Berlin. At the outbreak of the war she had decided to become a nurse and had been working at this hospital ever since.

She told him how she had to learn on the go, how to help the injured men and find inventive ways to keep them in high spirits. But it was in the dead of night that the two friends would sit in the light of a flickering candle to talk about their dreams and futures.

"What about marriage?" Nurse Fabray asked, quietly smiling at the rising blush on Kurt's cheeks.

Kurt gaped at her. How on earth had their conversation turned from him wanting to open a clothing shop to the idea of marriage?

Nurse Fabray giggled. "There must be a charming, pretty, young girl waiting at home for you." She said as Kurt looked away from her nervously.

Sighing Nurse Fabray whispered "I did it again, didn't I?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow in question. "I've hit a sore spot" She clarified.

"No, well yes, but it's fine." Kurt rambled, as the nurse looked at him in confusion at his sudden discomfort. "No, the only girls waiting at home for me are my sisters." He quipped trying to move the conversation to safer ground.

The nurse turned her attention to her nails, picking at the skin surrounding them. "I hear you talking in your sleep..." she mumbled, before turning her hard green gaze on Kurt. "About a man named Blaine..."

All the colour drained from Kurt's face. She knew and now he was going to lose his only true friend in this place. His mind raced. He really only had two options, he could deny everything or admit his leanings towards the same sex. Quickly weighing the pros and cons, Kurt chose the former; he would deny being gay until his dying breath.

"Oh god, why can't I keep my big mouth shut!" Nurse Fabray rushed out in a hushed voice, "Here I am, trying to be a friend and I go and make things awkward because of my curiosity!"

Kurt was flabbergasted. His mouth was hanging open as he watched Nurse Fabray rant.

"Honestly, I see no issue with the fact that you may be interested in men, not that you are-"

"I am." Kurt stated as he smiled at the nurse hesitantly, awaiting her reaction.

The nurse paused mid-sentence, her hands raised over her head, and her eyes bugged out a bit at Kurt's declaration. Lowering her hands to her lap, she watched Kurt intently, as if waiting for him to declare that he was joking. But Kurt didn't indicate otherwise; it was out in the open and there was no turning back now.

It was beginning to become uncomfortable as the silence stretched around them. The only noises in the ward were the sounds of forty men breathing slowly and the small snuffles coming from Rolph's bed.

The two of them sat searching each other's eyes, unexpectedly Nurse Fabray grabbed Kurt's hand, and let lose a smile that caused her eyes to sparkle in the dim light. "Well then, tell me all about this boy."

Kurt looked at the nurse in bewilderment, "wait, you're fine with me liking men...romantically?" he said, choosing the last word very carefully.

"Honestly, no." She said, smiling even wider at how Kurt looked worried. "I have to admit a small part of me is disappointed. You would have made a perfect husband."

Kurt snorted, as his smile returned. "Oh please, I would make a horrible husband."

"That's true, you would be stealing all of my cloth to make yourself a new outfit, and then making me a fabulous dress that all of the women in the neighbourhood would only dream of owning. To make matters worse you could come home from the shop to come make me dinner, and maybe do some cleaning, so that I could relax after looking after the children all day. You're right you would be a horrible husband." She joked.

"Haha, very funny." Kurt smirked, before becoming somber again. "You are honestly fine with me being gay?"

"Yes, Kurt, I am." She replied growing slightly displeased that Kurt doubted her. "Now tell me all about this man you are having dreams of."

"Why?"

She grinned devilishly. "Because I have to live through someone's love life."

Letting out a gentle laugh, Kurt shook his head. "Fine, but I should warn you, the story doesn't have a happy ending."

"I'm sure it does." She said, as she leaned her elbows on the edge of Kurt's bed.

So Kurt told her about how he met Blaine, his night in the shell hole and how they had some moments together. He did however leave out the parts about Blaine attempting to kill him at the beginning, how Bobby also shared the hole with him, and that Blaine wasn't German.

"You weren't joking." She said as she leaned back giving Kurt a sad smile, "it didn't have a happy ending."

"Of course it didn't." Rolph said from his bed, startling the two to turn to look at him. "It's a romance that happened in the middle of a war, it would never last."

"Ever the romantic." Nurse Fabray said shaking her head at Rolph before looking back to Kurt. "Don't listen to him, he wouldn't know romance if it hit him over the head."

Ignoring the conversation Kurt looked at Rolph in horror. Rolph knew. Oh god, Rolph knew he was gay.

As if he read Kurt's mind Rolph chuckled, "Don't worry kid, I have no problem about you being queer, you're still the same man, and nothing will change between us. And besides," A twinkle grew in his brown eyes as he winked at Kurt. "It just leaves more ladies for me."

Kurt couldn't help but laugh, as Nurse Fabray rolled her eyes.

Rolph was truly a character.

* * *

**November 4th, 1918 - German Hospital**

**Kurt**

Rolph kept his word; nothing had changed between the two of them since he had found out about Kurt's preference for men. If anything it seemed to make their friendship grow. The two of them talked during the day and played cards at night after they went for their midday walks.

Since he had found out, Rolph seemed encouraged to pursue all the nurses, his reasoning being that his biggest competition was out of the race for all the beautiful women. So naturally he had to up the anti, so he could console all the broken hearted nurses.

Kurt had reminded him several times that the only woman that knew was Nurse Fabray, but Rolph ignored him and proceeded to flirt with the women... Horribly, mind you, but no one had the heart to tell him since it seemed to lift his spirits.

Rolph had it in his head that he should be telling the women how 'it must have hurt falling from heaven' and 'that someone should write a letter to God because he was missing an angel' and that that was how he was going to win their hearts.

But no matter how many lines he used it never seemed to work, instead it was all the nurses and Kurt could do to try and suppress their laughter, all the while hiding how they rolled their eyes at him.

And today was no exception.

Rolph seemed on a mission to win over someone, so when he asked Kurt to join him for their afternoon walk Kurt gaped at him.

"But you were on a roll..." Kurt joked.

"Shut up Private." Rolph grunted as a small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, "are you coming or what?" he asked again as he grabbed the crutches next to his bed.

Throwing the blanket off of his lower half Kurt swung his legs over the side of the bed before he grabbed his single crutch, "Of course, I need to get out for a bit."

Kurt and Rolph hobbled in silence along the dusty aisle of the large room, stopping periodically to talk with some of the men, when they needed a quick breather, or rather when Kurt needed one.

It was when Kurt and Rolph started these walks that Kurt quickly learned that the infection had affected his energy levels, something Nurse Fabray assured him would disappear with some activity. So naturally the nurse saw this as an opportunity to get both of the men out of their beds and walking so they could be sent home sooner, an opportunity both men jumped at.

Since both men were learning how to cope with their injuries, they were always under the watchful eyes of the nurses. Rolph was learning quickly about how to maneuver with his crutches, while Kurt was still forgetting that his leg needed the aid of his crutch but was always reminded by the pain that would follow.

The men never wandered far but, as usual, they wound up in the ill-kept courtyard of the hospital. They sat at an old stone bench, Rolph leaning back to watch the clouds of smoke linger in the sky over the horizon of the forest below. While Kurt let the warm November sun sink into his skin and his injured leg stretch out in front of him.

"Have you written home yet?" Rolph asked as he stared absentmindedly towards the smoke.

"Yeah, but I haven't gotten anything back." Kurt mumbled, as he leaned forward to pick at the pads of his hands, giving Rolph a sidelong look.

Rolph smiled, "Give it time kid, you know the army they, take their sweet-ass time doing everything."

"That's true." Kurt grinned. "So, why were you so excited to get outside?"

"I wanted to talk to you... In private."

Intrigued, Kurt turned his full attention to Rolph, noticing that he was fidgeting with the cuff of his jacket. "Oh?"

"How do you do it?" Rolph rushed.

"I'm sorry?" Kurt asked, wondering why everyone seemed to ask him questions without specifying what they were talking about.

"How do you get a broad to like you?"

So that's what all this is about, Rolph was wanting to get advice, something Kurt was more than willing to give to get the man to stop with all the cheesy lines. "Well first don't call them broads." Kurt said smiling at the blush that rose on Rolph's cheeks. "And second, you really need to stop with all of those horrible lines."

"Oh please those are genius! The broa-, I mean the Nurses love them!"

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Kurt sighed fixing Rolph with a steely glare. "They're tacky, and if you haven't noticed they are obviously not working well for you."

"Well then, what should I do?" Rolph questioned looking at Kurt with his big brown eyes.

"Oh I don't know," Kurt mocked, "maybe have a civilized conversation with them? And no that does not include you commenting on how they fell from heaven, or anything similar."

"So I just talk to them." Rolph repeated, like it was the most intriguing information he was ever given.

"Honestly?" Kurt asked watching Rolph in disbelief. "Is it so odd to just have a simple conversation with a woman?"

"I'm not you, Hummel, women aren't naturally drawn to me." Rolph exclaimed throwing his hands in the air.

Snorting, Kurt watched as Rolph let his head drop. "Are you kidding me? Have you seen you?" Kurt asked gaining the other man's attention again, "I thought you only lost your leg not your hearing?" Kurt jested nudging Rolph in the shoulder, getting a half smile in return.

Satisfied Kurt continued, "You're a very attractive man-"

"And you are not my type Hummel," Rolph teased.

"I'm very aware that your type is blonde with green eyes," Kurt said flippantly, catching Rolph stiffen beside him. "It breaks my heart but I think I'll survive the heartache. Anyways, as I was saying your attractive, you have a great personality, and you're funny when you aren't being an ass. Just stop trying so hard and be yourself, and maybe you will catch the eye of our lovely nurse."

"H-how did you know?" Rolph stuttered, staring at Kurt with wide eyes.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "Really? I'm surprised everyone doesn't know. You are always staring at her... Discreetly, mind you, but if people watch you they would notice."

"And here I thought I was being subtle..." Rolph mumbled.

Kurt smiled. God, this man was adorable when he was shy. "You are." He assured him. "I don't think anyone knows but me and the only reason I know is because I have nothing better to do than read and watch you, in the least creepy way possible, mind you. That and I'm in tune to these kinds of things-"

"Because you're gay?" Rolph asked innocently.

"No," Kurt chuckled, as the man sitting beside him blushed. "Because I'm a hopeless romantic."

The Lieutenant nodded his understanding before the two men lapsed into a silence, watching the bare branches of the trees sway in the November wind.

Shivering, Kurt glanced at Rolph who seemed to be very deep in thought. "I think I'm going to head in," he paused, noticing that Rolph was fidgeting again with the cuff of his jacket. "Are you going to join me?" he asked as he stood leaning his weight on his crutch.

Rolph looked up at Kurt. "I think I'll stay out here for a while, think some things over."

"Alright, well, I'll see you later." Kurt carefully walked back to the oak doors of the hospital, keeping an eye on his feet as they moved over the loose gravel.

"Hello, Private."

Kurt paused, glancing up to see the bright smile of Nurse Fabray.

"It's good to see you moving around so well." She said as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "With the way you're recovering I have no doubt the doctor will be signing your release papers very soon."

"Oh god, I hope so." Kurt said dramatically, as he readjusted his weight to his good leg shivering as another breeze went past.

Nurse Fabray glanced up into the clouds, shaking her head. "You should head inside; I fear we may get some snow."

"I was on my way back." Kurt assured her, as he began to slowly make his way inside.

"Oh, Herr Hummel!" Nurse Fabray called, running back to his side her cheeks flushing slightly. "Have you seen the Lieutenant? I have some medication for him." She held up a clasped hand, as if she needed to justify her reasoning.

Kurt nodded as he fought a smile. "He's at our usual spot."

Nodding, she breathed out a quick thanks making her way to the bench.

Debating with himself, Kurt turned on his heel and walked as quickly as his leg could take him to see the two interact. Hiding behind one of the large maples Kurt watched as Nurse Fabray called Rolph's name in a breathless voice.

Being startled from his thoughts Rolph stood abruptly without the support of his crutches making him tumble over landing on his side causing Kurt to start to make his way from his hiding place, before he remembered that he wasn't supposed to be there.

Kurt didn't have to dwell on the thought of helping his friend for long since Nurse Fabray ran quickly to his side. She fussed over him before helping him back to his position on the bench. "Are you alright?" She asked her eyes and hands flitting over his chest and leg.

Kurt observed the two of them as Nurse Fabray fussed, while Rolph watched her with adoration in his eyes. When she brushed a hand on the knee of his good leg Rolph winced.

"Do you have a bandage?" he asked, causing the young woman to look at him with worry written all over her features, "Because I think I scraped my knee falling for you."

Kurt couldn't help but shake his head and groan. He couldn't watch this. Making a quick exit, he paused when he heard the musical sound of a woman's laugh.

Grinning Kurt continued his trek back to his bed. Well, maybe not all of Rolph's lines were so bad.

* * *

**November 11th, 1918 – British Field Hospital**

**Blaine**

Blaine had been working as a stretcher bearer for a month when he got the notification. The moment Rory came rushing over bright faced and panting with a strange sparkle in his clear eyes Blaine realized that something big was about to go down.

"B-Blaine" he panted, pausing only a few feet in front of the other to double over at the waist in order to catch his breath. Blaine waited patiently, turning away briefly to help some poor bugger blinded by a gas attack sit up on his wooden plank bed.

"I'm going home!"

That took Blaine by surprise. His head swung back so he could look at the boy straight on, the shock clearly evident. Rory just smiled widely that dreamy grin slathered across his face.

"I'll finally get to see Sugar again" he gushed. Blaine hadn't been able to form words, a sickening feeling settling low in his stomach. He found himself scared, wondering if this was some sick joke some arse was playing on the poor kid or maybe their superiors finally caught wind that they were behind what was now being called the great pudding mystery.

"I - what?" Blaine stumbled over his words, his throat feeling dry and his tongue not wanting to work. Rory hadn't stopped talking but rather continued to gush over his one true love, all things Blaine had heard over a hundred times already.

"Anderson!" Head Nurse Beiste lumbered over to where the boys were standing dumbly, a stoic look on her face. Blaine snapped to attention knowing that if caught wasting time he was bound to be loudly and publicly reprimanded.

"Yes ma'am." He called back, feeling the need to salute the hulk of a woman as she continued to bear down on them. Rory had finally silenced himself and was now just staring at their unofficial boss with a silly little smile.

"Get that man over to the nurses' station then grab your pack."

If anything, Blaine was even more confused than before having talked to the small, Irish boy. He stared up at her, his thick eyebrows almost lost in the dark curls of his fringe.

"…why?" She looked down her nose at the boy with an expression that clearly said not to argue and why ask such a ridiculous question.

"Because…" Beiste started slowly, as if talking to a small child "You're going home."

Blaine found himself having to sit down where he started to cry harder than he had in years, watching, mildly entertained, as Rory, flushed from panic, stuttered and raced about trying to find a solution, while Beiste hunkered down and rubbed soothing circles on his tense back.

He was going home.

* * *

**November 9th, 1918 - German Hospital**

**Kurt**

"I have a letter for you!" Nurse Fabray sing-songed as she walked up to the side of Kurt's bed handing him the yellowing paper.

Kurt snatched the letter from her hands, earning himself a chuckle from Rolph and a giggle from the nurse. "Someone is eager," she laughed as she sat on the edge of Rolph's bed.

Unfolding the paper, Kurt could see his father's messy writing on the page. Taking a deep, calming breath, he began to read. How everyone missed him, and that Lena and Noah were waiting till he came home to have the wedding. That little Anna was so happy to hear that he was okay, and that his father was 'so very proud of him'.

Wiping a few stray tears from his eyes, Kurt reread the letter another three times before he turned to his patiently waiting friends.

"My sister is planning on getting married in a few months whether the war is over or not." Kurt chuckled, his companions smiling at his excitement. "And Anna misses me, she keeps telling all of her friends that her brave, big brother is coming home."

Rolph chuckled again, making Kurt blush in embarrassment "Sorry, I'll stop."

Nurse Fabray glared at Rolph, nudging his shoulder. "Ignore him, I want to hear more!"

"You are so pushy." Rolph joked, earning a swat on the shoulder from the nurse. "Well you are!" he defended, as he raised his hands to stop the nurse from hitting him again. "You're always pushing meds on me, and telling me to sleep and making me and Kurt go for walks-"

"Don't bring me into this." Kurt chuckled as the nurse looked affronted by Rolph's words.

"I do it for your own good!" she squealed, glaring at Rolph, before the two of them started to quarrel again.

Sighing Kurt decided that he needed to stop the two of them since they were starting to draw unwanted attention. "Hey! If you want to know more you need to shut your mouths."

Kurt couldn't help but laugh at the expressions that crossed their faces, they looked like children that had just been scolded by their father, which Kurt had to remind himself seemed very much the case. Their faces were flushed, Rolph grinned like an idiot looking quite smug with himself and Nurse Fabray tucked a stray hair behind her ear before clearing her throat. "Sorry. You were saying?"

"Oh, never mind." Kurt chuckled as the pair gave each other sidelong glances. "So, Nurse Fabray, you mentioned that I get to be sent home in the next day or so?"

Getting caught once again, the nurse flushed even redder. "Oh yes, the doctor already sent out your discharge paper work about a week ago, and I personally sent word to your father that your train will arrive on the eleventh."

"So, I go home in two days?" Kurt asked in awe, hardly accepting the words.

"Lucky bastard." Rolph mumbled, earning himself an elbow in the chest. "You know I think this may be seen as abuse."

Nurse Fabray rolled her eyes, "Oh please. Am I abusing him?" She asked Kurt, looking at him for assistance.

Kurt smirked as he got Rolph's attention, "If anything, her actions may be seen as favouritism." He held back another laugh as both of them gaped at him, "Which I have to say breaks my heart, because I thought I was her favourite."

Jumping off of the bed as if she was scalded, Nurse Fabray moved to Kurt's side hugging his shoulders in an attempt to hide her ever reddening face, "Oh Private, everyone knows you're my favorite." She assured him giving him a tighter squeeze for emphasis before she leaned back and smiled at the two men.

"God I'm going to miss you guys." Kurt whispered, glancing at the smiling faces of his two companions.

"I know what you mean, kid. But hey, we can write each other-"

"Oh I would love that!" Clasping her hands together, Nurse Fabray moved quickly to grab a pencil and paper. When she returned she shoved it in Rolph's hand. "Well go on then write yours down, one for each of us."

Balancing the paper on his knee Rolph quickly jotted down his information before handing it back to the nurse. Smiling broadly, she handed it to Kurt so he could include his information. Once he was done she added her own before ripping the paper and handing the information to each of the men, tucking the last copy into her pocket.

They glanced over the addresses, noticing one small detail that neither man knew before.

"Quinn?" Rolph whispered, looking up at the nurse, who nodded.

Kurt looked at the flowing script of her handwriting, "I, honestly, never would have guessed."

"Well now that you both know, you still need to keep it hush-hush." She said, setting both men with a hard stare. "I'm still your nurse after all and as you both are aware I shouldn't be telling you."

Winking, Kurt nodded. "Your secret is safe with me, Nurse Fabray."

Smiling Quinn turned her head to look at Rolph. He was still staring at the piece of paper, rubbing his thumb over the words.

"Lieutenant?" Quinn asked, breaking Rolph from his entranced state.

"Yeah, yeah, my lips are sealed." He answered mimicking the lock and key movement next to his lips.

Returning to her spot on Rolph's bed she placed her hand on his knee and squeezed, making the poor man gawk at the back of her head, then at Kurt with a look of utter confusion.

Kurt held back a bark of laughter and shook his head. Poor Rolph, he was so oblivious.

Quinn got more comfortable on the bed, her hand still resting on Rolph's knee "So, tell us more about home, Kurt."

"Yeah, kid, tell us about home, I need something to tide me over till I get my papers."

* * *

**November 11th, 1918 - Düsseldorf - Train Station**

**Kurt**

Stepping off the train, Kurt slung his pack higher on his shoulder glancing around the station looking for his family; something he deemed would be no small feat. The station was packed.

"Hey, kid." Kurt turned looking into the opened window to see Rolph hanging out halfway. "Don't forget to write."

Kurt smiled "I won't."

"Good, now get going. Your family is waiting." Rolph maneuvered his body so that he could reach out the window. "Good luck, kid."

Kurt clasped Rolph's hand, shaking it. "You too, Rolph. Stay out of trouble."

Rolph threw his head back and laughed. "We may have only known each other for a few weeks but I thought you would at least know I live for trouble."

Fighting back his own smile Kurt gave Rolph a look. "That's exactly why I told you to stay out of it."

Rolph chuckled. "No promises. Now get going before I get teary."

Rolling his eyes, Kurt gripped his crutch tighter, turning his back to Rolph. "Bye Rolph, see you around." He waved as he made his way into the throngs of people crowding the platform.

"See you, kid!" Rolph yelled over the crowd, causing Kurt to pause to see the man waving like a maniac. With a final wave, Kurt worked his way through the mass of people looking for the familiar faces of his family.

Kurt couldn't believe the war was over. It was that morning that all of the men had been woken from their beds and told that Germany had signed a truce ending the war in favour of the Allies. Just like many of the men, Kurt had mixed feelings. A huge part was relieved that it was finally over, but another worried for the future of his country.

It was odd for Kurt that as he hobbled among the people on the platform, he was stopped a number of times by people he didn't even know. They were giving him pats on the back as well as words of encouragement about his injury. Some even went so far as to touch the black third class wound badge that he wore on his uniform.

However, after the seventh person stopped him, Kurt's patience was starting to wear thin. He was anxious to see his family again and all these people were just making it damn difficult to do so.

Finally breaking free from the tight grasp of a woman, Kurt attempted to hurry his pace in hopes he could avoid more people stopping him from his goal.

"Kurt!" a small voice squealed, breaking him from his thoughts.

Looking up, Kurt caught a flash of blue before being tackled. "Whoa! Hello to you too, Anna." Kurt chuckled as Anna's arms squeezed his midsection, her head buried into his chest. Smiling Kurt wrapped his arms around her shoulders placing a tender kiss on the top of her head.

"Anna! Be careful!" Lena yelled, as she ran up to Kurt's side wrapping her arms around him. "Thank god your home." She whispered in his ear as a stray tear escaped her eyes. Extracting an arm he wrapped it around Lena's waist pulling her into his side, taking in the smell of her perfume.

A hard hand landed on his back startling him, "Good to have you back." Noah smiled, looking at the crutch resting in the crook of his arm, "So, what's it like to get shot?"

"Noah!" Lena exclaimed, scandalized at the question her fiancé had asked.

Smiling, Kurt shook his head. "Good to see you too, Noah."

Taking a look around Kurt noticed he couldn't see his father. "Where's Dad?"

Letting go of her vice grip around Kurt's middle Anna emerged wiping a few tears on her sleeve, before pointing towards a brick column. "Daddy, wanted to talk to you by himself." She sniffled.

Nodding, Kurt gave Lena a quick kiss on the cheek, and ruffled Anna's hair.

Leaning over to grab his pack that he'd dropped on the ground, Noah snatched it from his grasp and slung it over one of his own broad shoulders. "Go see your Dad, I've got this."

Murmuring his thanks, Kurt gripped his crutch and made his way over to his father.

Burt was leaning against the column watching other families being reunited with their sons, smiling at the happy tears that flowed from the ecstatic loved ones.

"Hey, Dad." Kurt said breathlessly as his father whipped his head around to stare at Kurt.

It only took Burt two quick strides to get to Kurt and wrap him in his strong arms. Letting out a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding, Kurt let tears fall. He was finally home.


	8. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Well guys, here's the new chapter! And yes, WW1 is officially over (as of Nov. 11, 1918 Germany signed an Armistice with the Allies to end WW1). Did anyone see what we did there? Kurt and Blaine both got sent home on the day they signed the armistice! No? Okay, I'll just hide in a corner and read my history books. Anyways we are now entering the inter-war years! And fun times are ahead... For now… So enjoy!**

**We do already have the next chapter mostly done. So look for that to be posted by Friday.**

**Thanks to everyone that sent us reviews/following, you are all sweethearts and it makes us so very happy that you are all enjoying it! Also, Please, Please, Please, keep sending us reviews, or even follow us on tumblr to nag us to write faster because honestly, we need it... And knowing that you guys want it will empower us to get shit done!**

**Disclaimer: None of this is for profit. Don't sue.**

* * *

**November 1918 - Düsseldorf, Germany**

**Kurt**

The first few weeks of being home passed in blur for Kurt. The old brownstone was bustling with all the girls preparing for Lena and Noah's upcoming wedding. It seemed that wasn't the only thing they were fussing about though. Kurt had become their other project. He had grown tired of his family hovering and fussing over him.

First, it was his weight. Lena took the opportunity to hone her cooking skills, as well as teach Anna and Sara some basics. Kurt appreciated the sentiment and for the first weeks he gorged himself with the food placed in front of him (eating twice as much as Noah did). But now that Kurt was back to the weight he was before the war, they began to fuss over his lack of sleep instead.

The nightmares had begun as soon as Kurt had gotten home. He relived every horrifying moment, from his first night in the trench to being shot. Every night he would find himself jerked awake by his own screams, his legs twisted in the sheets and his body covered in a cold sweat.

Soon Kurt couldn't and refused to sleep at night. Instead, he started sleeping during the day while his family was out, and at night would lay awake until the sun rose. However, Kurt's brilliant plan of sneaking in naps during the day didn't work for long. Burt all but figured it out when he came home early one afternoon to check in on Kurt.

Burt took it upon himself to make space in his bedroom, insisting that Kurt sleep there until the nightmares faded. Kurt refused. He wasn't a child; he was a war veteran, who sure as hell didn't need to cuddle with daddy to sleep. But no matter how much Kurt refused, Burt was persistent and eventually convinced Kurt to try for one night. Kurt was determined to use that one night to prove his father wrong.

Yet, much to Kurt's chagrin, his nightmares had all but disappeared since he had moved into his father's room. He still refused to admit that his father may have been right about this subject.

Next, Kurt's family moved to worrying about the recovery of his injury. They hovered, flitting around making sure he was always comfortable, that his leg was elevated and that he had a book near so that he could read when he wasn't resting.

At first Kurt loved the treatment he was receiving, based solely on the fact that his family was near. But Kurt was starting to become frustrated. He was trying as hard as he might to get his sisters to let him go out, but they would have nothing of the sort.

It was at the two week mark that Kurt couldn't take it anymore. He let all of his anger and frustration out. "Honestly, Lena, I need to get out of this damn house!" he yelled pushing Lena's small hands away from his leg.

Momentarily stunned at Kurt's outburst, Lena stood abruptly and rounded on her brother. "I'm just trying to help!" She yelled back.

"Then help me get down the stairs so I can stretch my legs!" He continued to yell, fueled by his sister's anger. "I need out!"

"Whoa! Hey. What's with the yelling?" Noah bellowed over the two squabbling siblings, who hadn't noticed his entry.

At the sound of her fiancé's voice Lena rushed to his side clutching his arm. "Kurt's just a bit upset-" she said sweetly, all anger gone from her face.

Kurt huffed, rolling his eyes at the dramatic change of his sister at Noah's appearance. "I need out." Kurt stated. "I have been stuck in this fucking house for two weeks."

"Okay," Noah said hesitantly, approaching Kurt like he was a wild beast about to strike, which actually sounded like a pretty good idea to Kurt. "I'll take you out."

He looked from Lena to Kurt, testing the grounds. "We'll go for a walk... How does that sound?"

Grinding his teeth, Kurt held back the urge to lunge at Noah's throat. "What the fuck do you think I am Noah? I'm not a goddamn dog!" Kurt screeched causing Noah to back off a bit, putting his hands up in surrender.

Sighing, Kurt dropped his head into the palms of his hands, trying to reel in his temper. "Why does everyone think I am going to break?"

"We don't think that." Lena whispered.

"Then let me go out." Kurt pleaded, looking straight at his sister. "I need some time to clear my head, to think about that the hell I am going to do with this." He gestured to his injured leg, feeling utterly defeated.

Noah and Lena exchanged a glance, coming to some sort of silent agreement.

"Come on, Kurt." Noah said gently, holding out a hand to Kurt. "Let's go out, no strings attached, okay?"

Kurt nodded and accepted Noah's help getting up, and accepted his crutch from his sister. "So am I allowed to walk on my own?"

"I don't think that is the best idea..."

Kurt glared at Noah, getting ready to hit him over the head with his crutch.

"Hear me out." Noah continued. "You haven't been out in a while. Why don't we see if you can make it to the shop without getting winded?"

Kurt sighed, hating that Noah actually had a valid point for once.

"Fine." He huffed, knowing that if he argued more he would be forced to stay.

Noah helped him into his jacket, then bid Lena goodbye before beginning the trek down the flight of stairs.

Much to Kurt's frustration, he was already tired when they had left the brownstone. But he refused to tell Noah, in case the man decided to throw him over his shoulder and haul him back to the house.

They didn't make it far before Lena was calling them back to give Kurt a pair of gloves to keep his hands warm. Kurt felt his anger at his sister fade as he accepted the gloves with a smile and slipped them on. She returned his smile turning up his collar to protect his neck from the falling snow, then turned on her heel and rushed back towards the house to escape the cold.

The young men walked in silence, lost in their thoughts, just like they had done what seemed like eons ago. It was a small comfort to Kurt to know that this was still as normal as always, even though the war had caused a void between them.

Kurt looked around with wonder at the shops along the Rhine. Most of which were floundering since the war had ended, while others had closed due to the lack of customers. It was one shop that caught Kurt's eye; it was the old clothing shop that Kurt would wander into but never buy anything because they were too pricy. He would instead look at the concept and redesign it when he returned home.

"So, the Boutique closed?" Kurt asked, an idea forming in his mind.

Noah snapped out of his thoughts looking towards the shop in question. "Yeah, they always had that expensive stuff that you and the girls loved. So of course no one was buying, they had to give it up." Noah raised an eyebrow at the wolfish grin growing on Kurt's face, raising an eyebrow. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking I know what I can do." Kurt replied, grinning ear from ear. "Come on, I need to run the idea by dad."

* * *

**February 17****th**** 1919 – London, England**

**Blaine**

Blaine sat eerily silent on the wooden church pew with a morose expression, his sunken, dark eyes pointedly looking forward and his jaw clenched tightly as passerby's whispered generic words of condolence. His mother, so tiny and frail in her best Sunday dress, sat trembling at his side where she whimpered and sniffled into her creased handkerchief, pausing to thank the faceless people.

There were others sitting stiffly in the hand carved benches that flanked each side of the small, wooden church. Blaine knew the place well, having been forced there every Sunday morning and preached to about the eternal damnation he faced for continuing his sins. However, as far as Blaine was concerned he had faced so much hell fire that the entire prospect of it seemed very anticlimactic.

The place hadn't changed in the almost four years he had been away. Only the people had. He could hear their hushed murmurs echoing in the thick silence, muttering about mundane things. It all made Blaine feel very uncomfortable and that made his hands shake and twitch until he was forced to lock them together on his lap to avoid the attention of such grim faced people, not that it was overly important but Blaine found himself to be vain about these little things.

As he sat there with his boney knees trapped between the ledge of his own seat and the pew in front and his eyes focused on the large wooden cross nailed to the alter Blaine reflected on the past three months. The war was officially over and England was, once again, righteous and peaceful.

Life moved along, but most of the boys who had come back had dragged with them a little slice of that hell. Most Blaine had known never came back from duty, not really. Countless numbers now lined the rotting wooden floors of the trenches and the raped landscape of no man's land. Those who had physically returned were not right and probably would never be. For the Andersons the war had become a taboo subject and they straight out refused to talk about it, or about Cooper. However, its poisonous presence stalked them, snaking into their nightmares and bringing with it visions of a fresh-faced man who had been mangled and torn apart by its brutality.

It was obvious that none of them had found a way to deal with the aftermath. Blaine's mother acted as if nothing had ever changed and continued going about her simple life, cleaning everything to within an inch of its life and cooking portions too big but still silently cried when she set out one place seating too many. Blaine tried to go on with a normal life where he would smile, joke and generally pretend like he was that selfish little boy again, yet he knew that those carefree days were long gone. Instead he found himself yearning for that rush of danger and that thunderous roar of gun fire and hating himself for it.

It was Blaine's father who seemed the worst off of all of them; he looked frail and tired, the bags under his drooping eyes became even more predominate. Blaine had hardly recognized his father when he shuffled off the train and onto the station platform, bumping shoulders with battered men in wrinkled and frayed uniforms. He didn't seem as tall or ominous-seeming as he did when Blaine had been a small child, but then again Blaine wasn't a little boy anymore.

It took four whole minutes for his parents to fully recognize him even as he stood silently in front of them intently staring. His mother of course cried, hesitating only momentary before reaching up with her thin arms and pulling him down into a delicate hug. Blaine let her without saying a word but let his eyes rest on the slumped figure of his father, but the man only looked at him shaking his head slightly before turning around and walking away. Blaine found it quite humorous because he really didn't care; he had spent his entire childhood trying to live up to his father's expectations but just didn't have it in him anymore.

His father died two months later and Blaine still didn't care and he supposed that made him a terrible son. Even now as he sat in church listening to the preacher's mumbled words being broken up by loud sobs he didn't cry or feel sorrow. His father had died believing that he had lost the wrong son and while Blaine still felt the clear sting of heartache for his brother he was glad he had survived and nothing anyone said or felt would change that. He was sure that was what Copper wanted.

A sharp tug on his sleeve snapped Blaine back to the present and he looked over to see he mother staring up at him with red rimmed eyes, her thin hand resting lightly on his forearm. Her eyebrows were raised slightly and Blaine finally noticed that others were starting to stand up chatting amicably with each other as they prepared themselves to make their way towards the grave yard out back. There, a large hole had been dug to accommodate the numerous bodies that would be interned together in a mass burial. The flu epidemic that was now plaguing London was taking no prisoners in its battle to rid the streets of its young, old, sick and weary.

"Let's go home mother." He stood up like the rest, not even making a face of discomfort as the joints of his knees cracked, before he pulled on his jacket and reached down his hand to help his mother stand. He didn't look at her, knowing that to do so would mean letting her see that all he felt now for his father was deep-seated and bitter resentment towards a man that had never loved him like a son. She took his offered hand, hoisting herself up with a surprising amount of strength all the while dabbing delicately at her eyes with an unsoiled corner of the handkerchief. Blaine dutifully helped her into her long wool coat with its frayed sleeves.

They walked together silently for a few streets, her arm tucked genteelly in the crook of his elbow. He kept his eyes forward, head held high up and jaw clenched tighter than before but could still feel the eyes of passersby's watching them.

"Blaine, darling." His mother murmured quietly still walking by her now only child's side. Their shoes clicked against the pavement, sending small clumps of snow scattering in their wake. Blaine responded in time with a small humming noise from the back of his throat turning his head to look down slightly at the woman.

"Let's walk through the park. It's such a lovely day today." For a brisk day in February it was unusually nice. The wind wasn't too bitter or too wild and the sun was shining brightly above warming them through their thick coats so Blaine allowed the thin woman to lead them down the covered path that weaved through the small park. They continued on for a while, neither talking but rather taking in the sights of bare branches dotted with clusters of soft snowflakes.

"They look like skeletons." Blaine broke the silence, his voice thick and gruffer then he would have liked. He coughed into his right fist, clearing his throat before taking in a lungful of crisp winter air before continuing.

"That's what all the trees look like over there." He paused momentarily. He could feel his mother's body go still for a second, her hand clenching his forearm tightly before quickly lightening up. "Looked." He corrected himself, never missing a beat or a step.

"They looked like skeletons, only it was all the time not just fall or winter." He really didn't know why he was bringing it up now. His mother had never mentioned any passing curiosity as to what the war had been like but instead of questioning Blaine's strange behaviour she responded with a light comforting pat to his arm, which he barely felt through his coat.

"I know." She replied, still staring at the beautiful scenery around them. Blaine was startled, he paused and looked down at his mother who was staring right back with the same schooled expression she wore whenever his father would start to get angry.

"I read your journal." She elaborated, not once looking guilty. In that moment Blaine felt such a chill settle low in his stomach that he shivered, but refused to look away. His mother turned her head, spotted a fairly clean stone bench and ushered them over there. Blaine followed, stumbling behind her like a fool with such a horrified expression you would have thought she had just confessed to slaughtering a litter of puppies.

She sat down gracefully, her chin pointing upwards and outwards and for a moment Blaine hardly recognized this confident lady sitting before him.

"Blaine, come sit next to your mother." She patted the section of stone next to her with such an expectant look that Blaine felt compelled to do what she had asked and flopped down next to her, placing his head in his hands and looking down at their muddy footprints. Neither said anything for a long moment until his mother cleared her throat sharply.

"I've always thought you were special, Blaine. You were always my baby boy." Her voice was hushed and her eyes were trained on a small group of school children laughing and screaming on the other side of the park. They were throwing perfectly crafted snowballs at each other.

"That's not to say I didn't think your brother was special. I just always knew you were different in a more special way."

Blaine winced, both at the subtle mention of his older brother and with the realization that he had some inkling to what she was talking about. He silently prayed that she wasn't talking about _that, _but she had only paused to take in a deep breath.

"I'm never going to have grandchildren, am I?" She asked. At that moment he knew that she had seen the sketch of Kurt, the attractive, young, German boy he had connected with in that muddy shell hole. Blaine sat up, feeling the thick tension laying itself around his shoulders. His mother sat quietly by his side awaiting an answer that Blaine felt she already knew. He had to make his choice now, would he lie and follow through with marring some pretty young thing, have a few children and live a quite but contemptuous life? Or would he admit out loud what he really wanted? To find someone to love wholly even if the law thought it grotesque and more importantly view it as illegal.

Blaine drew in a deep breath and answered.

"No, mother. I don't think you'll ever have grandchildren."

She hummed thoughtfully, taking in Blaine's confirmation of her thoughts and fears with a dignified nod of her head before pushing herself to stand up. She brushed off the snow that clung to her favourite winter jacket and turned her head to look down at her son.

"I'm going to move in with your Aunt Mildred. Roger died two years ago in France and little David has contracted polio. She needs the help."

Blaine felt the sinking in his stomach and the pin pricks behind his hazel eyes but he steadied himself with a deep breath. He knew that no one would accept him for how he truly was. He should have known that to admit his real inclinations towards the same sex he would be ostracised and cast away as the forgotten Anderson.

"Blaine, look at me."

She stood in front of him, a very tight expression on her thin face, the red all gone from her pale watery eyes. Her hands perched mindfully on her narrowed hips. Blaine looked up at her, hoping his face didn't look as broken as he felt on the inside.

"I married you're father because I had to, maybe at one point I thought myself in love with him. I don't want that for you. You're my son and I love you, no matter what. Do you understand that?" She said very pointedly, reaching out one hand and smiling sadly when he reached out to hold it.

"…and that's why I liquidated you're father assists. Take the money Blaine. Find that special person who makes you happy and never lose that."

They walked home in silence, her hand tuck delicately into the crook of his elbow but a smile on both their faces.

* * *

"Blaine, sweetie, are you sure you packed enough clean pants?"

Blaine grinded his teeth as he violently threw another handful of clean clothing into his suitcase, trying to ignore his mother's incisive nattering and nagging over what he should pack, however when she entered his room without knocking Blaine shot her a very annoyed look which was promptly disregarded. She was once again wearing her jacket only this time she was wearing a pair of shiny leather shoes and her hair was pulled up into an attractive chignon. There was even a hint of blush on her boney cheekbones. Blaine paused, just staring at her as she tutted about the state of his suitcase opening her mouth to nag some more.

"You look beautiful." He announced, stopping her in her verbal tracks. She flushed and smacked his shoulder playfully before reaching up and hugging him tightly.

"You'll take care of yourself?" she asked, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Blaine hugged her back just as tightly murmuring into her hair that yes, he would be just fine and that he had remembered to pack enough clean undergarments. She laughed into his chest and Blaine wished that he could just hold onto this moment forever, but she pulled back and reached out to smooth his hair down. Blaine let her with a smile on his face.

"You will write?" she asked quietly and Blaine nodded, she then produced two envelops from the front pocket of her coat. One was thick; almost bulging and he figured it held all of his inheritance from his late father's estate, while the other looked rather plain with his name and address scrawled across the front.

"This came for you two weeks ago. I just couldn't bear to see you leave again so I kept it." Blaine nodded, not as angry as he should have been. He took in his mother's guilty expression with a small grin. He opened it and read it quickly, his grin growing wider.

"It's from Jeff." He stated. "He's living in London and wants me to visit."

"Well, it would be rude not to." His mother had this sly grin playing on her thin lips as she delicately placed the envelope filled to the brim with good old fashioned British pounds into the front pocket of his button up.

"Now be careful and remember to bring a gift. It's rude to show up empty handed." She hugged her son once again, kissing his cheek before pulling away completely and shoving a few more pounds into a couple of socks that sat atop the mess in Blaine's suitcase.

"It's better to safe than sorry."

She stopped at the doorway and turned around, looking back at the honourable man her dear little boy had become. It was hard to hold back the tears but that would have surely made the moment all the more difficult.

"I hope to one day meet the lucky boy who steals my baby's heart." She whispered. Blaine stared back and nodded.

"I wish that too, mother. More than anything."

* * *

**Little teaser for the next chapter: Niff.**


	9. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: We are really, REALLY sorry for the delay on this chapter, but we blame our Beta who was too busy/too lazy to get this done on time. (She apologizes. ~Beta). We really hope you like this chapter, and please take a moment to review when you finish. We love you all anyway though.**

**Fluffy and awkward times are coming, we promise. And this story will earn its rating, we promise. It's just taking longer than we thought to get there. **

**We don't really have a timeline for the next chapter and we're also super sorry about that. Cassie got a new job and Jesse just got promoted, so real life work stuff is getting in the way. Just please bear with us for now.**

* * *

**December 1918 - Düsseldorf, Germany**

**Kurt**

Kurt was ecstatic when his father agreed to his idea of starting up his own tailoring business out of the storage room of the shop. Even though Kurt knew that mostly Burt's reason for agreeing was to get Kurt out of the house and away from his sister in hopes he wouldn't kill her, while keeping Kurt from going crazy at the same time.

When he had first established his business Kurt only had a handful of customers, all of which were family and friends that had wanted to encourage Kurt. However, through word of mouth and people actually beginning to wear his clothes, Kurt found his clientele growing rapidly. Soon over half the neighborhood came to him for his sewing expertise, which kept him busy and kept his mind out of the trenches.

It was on a rainy day that Kurt allowed his mind to wander back into a muddy shell hole, and dwell on a certain British soldier. He wondered what Blaine was doing now, and if Blaine was even alive. Kurt had never told his family about Blaine; it was a sweet memory that he kept to himself to protect it from being tarnished.

Kurt sighed and tucked the gold regiment pin, which hung on a matching chain around his neck, into his shirt. These days, Kurt found himself thinking of Blaine often. Wondering what had happened to him, daydreaming about their impossible reunion.

Shaking the romantic thoughts from his head, Kurt returned to work on the quaint dress he had designed for Anna. He scolded himself for letting his mind wander back to Blaine when he knew nothing would come of it. He didn't know the man, and he wasn't even completely sure Blaine was gay! It seemed quite likely, but Kurt didn't have any experience with British people, it was possible that he was just overly affectionate.

He had decided a week ago that it was time for him to find a nice girl and settle down, forget his preferences for men and do what was expected. Kurt had decided that Lena's wedding would be the opportune time to begin such a search, since there would be plenty of women looking for exactly what Lena was getting.

Kurt had told his father of his intentions the previous night, and Burt had only looked at Kurt with anguish written all over his face. Burt assured Kurt that he would be able to find someone that he could be close to all the while being secretive so no one else would be aware.

Kurt was sick of having to hide, and the thought of finding someone so secretly was daunting. So instead Kurt decided to take the easier path, whether it was what he truly wanted or not.

* * *

**February 17****th****, 1919 - London, England **

**Blaine**

The small brownstone where Jeff lived had seen better days, much better days. The edges were crumbling and jagged while frozen weeds were poking through the cracks in the concrete steps that lead to the paint-chipped door.

Blaine walked up the foreboding steps and set down his suitcase before knocking and waiting politely until a rather large and hairy man opened the door in only his trousers and soiled undershirt, a fag hanging sadly from his pursed lips.

"Yeah?" he barked, looking at Blaine in his clean clothes and slightly scuffed shoes like he was some kind of pariah. Blaine just smiled weakly in return and tried to ignore the familiar sting of smoke in his eyes as the man carelessly blew out thick smoke.

"I'm here to see Jeff Sterling." The man paused and looked at him a second longer before moving to the side and waving a hand for Blaine to enter. Blaine heaved a sigh of relief, happily grabbed the handle of his pack and scrambled inside.

"He expecting you?" the man asked once everything was in the door and he had kicked it shut. The inside was much worse than the outside, with grimy, flowered wallpaper pealing at the top and an ancient staircase which probably hadn't seen a bucket of water since the last decade. Blaine sniffed, his face crinkling at the musty smell that permeated every inch of the first floor but quickly waved it off. Beggars couldn't be choosers and he had lived in much worse places.

"Not exactly. I didn't get his letter until this morning and I'm leaving tomorrow so I thought I'd just drop in and say goodbye. Didn't really get to last time."

The man was staring at him with a mixed expression, half suspicion and half pity. Blaine figured he had realized they had served in the war together.

"Well, up the stairs. First door on the right."

Blaine smiled and gave his thanks before cautiously starting up the stairs, wincing at the deep shudder it gave, silently praying that he didn't fall through and die. That would be very upsetting.

The first door on the second landing looked only marginally better than the front door. The paint was only a little scuffed at the bottom but the numbers that had been screwed in were tarnished and crooked, one was hanging upside down. Blaine knocked loudly and it sounded deafening in the empty corridor. A few muffled curse words reached him through the chunk of wood as things scrapped and clattered about. It all made Blaine smile, but that quickly died when the door opened and a haggard looking head popped out which didn't belong to Jeff.

"Nick?"

A thin smile broke across the brunet's face as he finally realized who was standing outside his door.

"Well, if it isn't Blaine fucking Anderson. Come to finally grace us with your presence?" he joked, straightening himself out and opening the door wider. Despite his joke, he didn't look impressed to see Blaine and that caused the other to start fidgeting, tugging at the sleeves of his coat and shuffling his wet feet.

"I...er…" Blaine paused, taking a deep breath before reaching into his deep pocket and pulling out a crinkled paper bag. "I brought some whiskey."

Nick opened the door and gestured for Blaine to enter, reaching out and plucking the bottle from his hands and holding it close to his face.

"Damn, this is the good stuff too." He muttered, walking into the front room that doubled as the kitchen and sitting room. He flopped down onto a rickety, wooden chair and set the bottle on the scratched kitchen table.

"Hey, Jeff. Get out here. Our favourite crazy man has come to visit!"

The blond stumbled from what Blaine could only guess was the bedroom. Jeff was blurry-eyed and bare-chested and didn't seem to acknowledge Blaine's presence.

"You can go ahead and ignore him for the next ten minutes until he wakes up. He works nights and sleeps during the day." Nick added, pulling out a fag from the pack that had been lying on the table. He lit it with a flick of the sliver lighter that had been pulled from his pocket. Blaine smiled at that.

"Set down your bag." He took a long drag, blowing the smoke upwards with a content look on his face. He watched with sharp eyes as Blaine dropped the bag.

"You look good, Anderson. New suit." Blaine loosened the tie around his throat and popped open the buttons of his jacket before slipping it and his winter coat off and throwing them over the back of another chair.

"Yeah, had to buy one for my father's service. All my old ones were too small." He replied, taking a seat at the table. Nick cringed, feeling like a prat.

"Sorry mate. Didn't know."

"I know, no harm no fowl. He was an arse."

It was uncomfortably quiet for a moment, and Nick reached out to offer Blaine a fag which he declined and they settled into silence.

"When the hell did Blaine get here?" Jeff was still standing in the kitchen rubbing his eye and yawning but now coherent enough to notice what was going on around him. Blaine grinned and waved, which was eagerly returned with a sleepy smile.

"Glad to see you're not dead." The blond joked, pulling out another chair and spinning it around so he could sit down on it backwards. His arms resting on its high back as he laid his chin down atop them.

"Me too." Blaine responded, causing Nick to laugh and then choke on smoke which urged Jeff to reach out and smack him solidly on the back.

"So what brings you here?" the blond asked, turning his attention back to the curly haired man seated across from him. Blaine smile wistfully.

"Finally got your letter and thought I'd drop by to say goodbye this time." Nick, finally over his coughing fit, looked over at him confused.

"Goodbye?"

"Yeah." Blaine nodded to himself "I'm leaving tomorrow. Don't know where, probably America. I just can't stay here and be suffocated."

Jeff nodded as if understanding while Nick scoffed loudly, taking another long drag and then crushing the butt onto the table which earned him another smack from his roommate. Blaine sniggered quietly.

"Well then, we've got to celebrate your last day here on good English soil." Nick smirked and reached out, pulling the whiskey from its package and lightly shaking it in their faces. Blaine exchanged a look with Jeff. Both smiled wickedly and set about clearing the table and getting some fairly clean glasses, laughing while Nick tried to open the bottle.

* * *

Blaine figured he must have been on his second glass of whatever Nick and Jeff had been able to scrounge up after they had finished the whiskey an hour ago. It was dark outside and pretty obvious that Blaine was expected to stay the night. Nick was still sitting in his original spot only this time around more of his weight was being supported by the kitchen table then the actual chair. Jeff was at the stove, stirring a pot of beans they had found in one of the cabinets, and laughing at the story Nick had been stuttering out.

"I heard that Trent and Amy huge-knockers got married." Blaine hummed appreciatively around the rim of his glass as he took another swig. They were swiftly approaching war territory, telling jokes about stuffy, tight-arsed captains and poor sods that never made it back to the trenches.

"Ryerson died, you know." Blaine looked over at Nick who blew out a sigh and scratched at the table top with a dirty broken nail. "Took some shrapnel to the face, I heard. Didn't see it myself but didn't really care too. Hated the guy, but still no one deserved to go that way. Not even those damn Huns."

Jeff turned off the stove and dumped the beans into three equally chipped bowls before setting them down on the table, reaching over and patting Nick's slumped shoulder.

"He gets like this when he drinks. Just try to humour him, or ignore it if it makes you uncomfortable." Blaine nodded and downed what was left in his glass setting it out in front of Nick to be filled. The brunet smiled and eagerly poured in whatever was in the closest bottle.

"What happened that night, Blaine?" Nick asked as he slid the drink back to him, leaving a wet trail across the table. Blaine hesitated, turning to look at Jeff who avoided all eye contact and picked at the food in his bowl.

"I think I deserve to know mate! You almost killed me!" The brunet's face was flushed and he looked to be on the verge of anger as he stared Blaine down, demanding the truth while he twirled the shiny lighter between his fingers. It was obvious that this was something that plagued him and even though the war was over, he couldn't seem to move on from that point. Blaine sighed and took his drink, downing it again quickly.

"Cooper's dead." He started, feeling their gazes heavy on his shoulders. "I found out that night. Got hit with some shrapnel." The story that followed was heartbreaking and when he was finished there was not a single dry eye in the room.

"Christ." Nick muttered. It was quickly seconded by Jeff who stared disbelieving down at his bowl before pushing it away. The scrapping sound resounded throughout the silent apartment. Blaine wiped furiously at his red eyes and inhaled in deep shuddering breaths trying to calm himself.

"…and what about this Kurt fellow?" Jeff asked. Blaine shook his head.

"Never saw him again. He left before I woke up. He's probably dead." He replied, hating the way the thought made his heart clench painfully and the bile rise in his throat.

"Don't think like that, Blaine!" Nick suddenly shouted, jumping to his feet before slumping back down into his chair swearing and holding his head tightly. Jeff reached out and smoothed back the dark fringe from his friend's forehead.

"I think it's time you went to bed." He said, swiping his thumb once more across Nick's brow. Blaine suddenly felt as if he was encroaching on a very private moment, so he looked away until Nick's protest drew his attention.

"No, Blaine has to go find that damn krout! Promise me, Blaine, you'll find Kurt and…and…" a loud thump ended that sentence as Nick passed out cold, much to the other men's surprise. Jeff just smiled fondly down and stood up, waving Blaine over to help him haul Nick into the small bedroom just off the front room, where they gingerly laid him out on the bed.

"So, you've got your choice. Take the bed and deal with him all night or take the floor and fear the wrath of the dust bunnies." Jeff snickered at his own joke while Blaine rolled his eyes and stole the quilt off a small steamer trunk at the foot of the bed.

"I'll take the floor. I remember that he kicks in his sleep." Jeff continued to snicker as he hauled himself onto the bed, pushing Nick's sprawled limbs out of the way. Blaine hunkered down and laid the quilt out as nicely as possible only pausing when a pillow hit him on the back of the head.

"Night, Anderson."

"Goodnight, Sterling."

Blaine didn't sleep much that night, ideas and decisions churning around in his head. When he finally did it was to the flailing and quite whimpers of Nick and the reassuring hums of Jeff.

* * *

**February 18****th****, 1919 – London, England **

**Blaine**

Nick and Jeff were there to see him off at the Action Central rail station, both looking haggard and hung over in rumpled trousers and long winter coats. At least Jeff had the thought to throw on a cap to hide his case of bed head while Nick's hair was sticking up everywhere. They received more than their fair share of disapproving glances, especially when Blaine reached out and let himself be hugged by them in a very tight and manly fashion, which meant the use of some very vulgar terms that scandalised some of the mothers brushing past with small children.

"You better write you wanker!" Nick reached out and mussed Blaine's perfectly gelled hair, which earned him a light punch to the arm.

"Even better, you arsehole, I'll visit sometime. Germany ain't that far." The look that crossed both men's faces made it all worth it as Blaine was drawn into another tight hug and even as the whistle blew and the conductor called for all passengers. Blaine lingered, knowing that it might be a long time before he ever saw his best friends again.

The train left promptly at eleven thirty-five with Blaine sitting at a window seat smiling at the two idiots still on the platform grinning and waving at him like two escaped asylum patients. At that moment Blaine knew that this was the right decision so he settled in for his quick ride over to Harwich. From the coast he would take a ferry across to the city of Hook in Holland, something he was generally not looking forward to seeing as the last time he was being shipped across to the mainland it was to kill Germans. Maybe, just maybe, he was also a little nervous about having to get on another boat. Not that he was scared or anything it's just that ships have a tendency to sink with all hands on deck and drowning doesn't seem to be quite a pleasant way to die.

Blaine spent that part of the journey holed up in his small, cramped cabin scribbling in his journal, listening in politely to other people's conversations trying to decipher just what exactly they were saying and praying not to die.

From Hook he jumped another train to Rotterdam from where he switched to yet another one that was taking him to Brussels. It wasn't an overnight train but it would reach the capital at three in the morning which gave him only a few minutes to race to catch his three fifteen train which would finally take him into Germany.

Blaine spent the majority of that ride confined to his car were he dozed lightly, penned out some rather exaggerated sketches of his fellow passengers and wrote little poems that made him laugh. Luckily, in Hook he had been able to pick up a dime store crime novel written in English but decided to hold off on reading that until this two day ride to Cologne.

It was a sleeper train and thus Blaine would be forced into tight quarters with strangers and told to sleep. Luckily he had perfected such a thing over the past four years and this made him confident that no one would be able to swipe the bag from under his nose.

That last two day push was the one thing Blaine dreaded most of all, even more then the quick hop across the channel. He feared looking out the windows and seeing the same things that haunted his dreams. A raped landscape soaked so heavily in blood that nothing would ever grow again where tattered bodies hung from long strings of barbed wire.

It was snowing in Brussels when the train arrived and Blaine shivered, not even outside of the heated car yet, remembering years of the biting cold that could tear flesh from bone. Not many people were getting off at this station, most continuing south and someplace Blaine had seen too much of. However, those who did were yawning widely behind fists as they pulled overstuffed bags from compartments and languidly strolled into the warmth provided from the building in front of them.

Blaine just had time to quickly grab his suitcase and race off down the platform, dodging other travellers who squawked indigently in French throwing their fists his way. He ignored them as he scrambled onto the right platform where he slid to a quick stop only to watch the train pulling away at a quick pace. A loud curse left his lips as he kicked at the layer of snow resting on the wooden floor, sending some of it flying. Blaine dropped his suitcase and ran his fingers through his hair, sighing because he could just feel the product washing away from the large fluffy flakes that he could see landing on his shoulders and eyelashes.

"Excusez-moi! Pardon!" A soft squeak broke Blaine from his pouting. He turned his head to see a slender woman bundled tightly in thick wool clothing trying to push a heavy looking pram up some stairs and failing miserably.

"Ne pleure pas" she whispered, trying to sooth her nerves and that of the baby crying inside the stroller as she continued to try and push it onto the platform. Blaine rushed over, grabbing the back sides and effortlessly lifting it up those few inches until the back wheels could find traction on the flat floor.

"Merci, merci à vous!" Blaine shrugged and moved out of her way as she finally made it up the stairs.

"Pas de problem." He murmured, slightly embarrassed over how he stumbled over the French words. She seemed to catch on that he was, in fact, not from these parts and stared up at him with a very quizzical expression, she seemed about to say something but the baby started to cry again.

"Bien maintenant, darling." She cooed while reaching into the pram and pulling out a small bundle of blankets, in which Blaine assumed there was a child, hopefully.

"English?" She asked, her accent very thick. The baby was settling down now, she held it close to her chest and patted softly at its back, while lightly bouncing at the knees.

"Yes." He replied watching the mother and child interacting. He could see the tiny pale face poking through the quilt but he couldn't tell if it was a boy or girl and the woman didn't seemed inclined to talk anymore so they stood there quietly waiting for the next train. The silence was ringing in Blaine's ears and making him feel twitchy again, his hands fidgeted with the ends of his sleeves and he shuffled his feet about.

"w'at brings 'ou to Brussels?"

Her quite voice startled him and Blaine hesitated before answering truthfully, carefully watching the woman's face.

"I'm visiting a friend…of sorts." He didn't know how to categorize the relationship between himself and Kurt. They weren't exactly friends; he had tried to kill the boy the first time he saw him but they had gained some form of camaraderie and left not entirely as enemies.

"I didn't think that there was much friendship between the British and the Germans." She stated, not harshly or venomously but as a matter of fact. Blaine laughed to himself a little.

"It's…complicated." He replied. She looked up at him and smiled a sad smile.

"It always is, isn't it?"

Blaine nodded and watched as another train pulled into the station and the woman readied herself and the baby, jiggling it from arm to arm trying to place it back down in the pram without it crying again.

"I could push that in for you." Blaine offered, reaching down and grabbing the handle of his suitcase. The woman looked him up and down carefully before nodding and moving to make her way to the stairs that would lead inside the cars. Blaine followed obediently, knowing that to fellow passengers they might look like a happy little family taking a trip into Germany.

"I'm Blaine, by the way. Blaine Anderson."

He pulled the pram in tight to the side of her seat and watched as she started to pull off her fur lined cap. A cascade of bright ginger hair fell down her shoulder and she paused to push it out of her eyes before continuing to remove her jacket. Blaine helped, holding the collar as she pulled her thin arms out.

"Merci."

She waved to the seat across from her, offering Blaine a place with them for the beginning of the trip.

"Emma." She relied, carefully pulling the blankets away from the giggling baby she had cautiously placed down on the seat next to her "and this is Wilhelm."

Blaine nodded, realizing that most likely the father was German but didn't feel comfortable questioning her about it.

"Thank you Emma. For letting me sit with you and Wilhelm." She smiled at him, picking the little boy up and once again holding him close to her chest.

"Pas de problem." She joked.

* * *

**February 22****nd****, 1919 - Düsseldorf, Germany**

**Kurt**

Wandering towards the train platform Kurt pulled the collar of his tweed pea coat closer to his neck protecting him from the brisk breeze. He smiled, it was a sunny day (a nice change from the weather they had the last few weeks), and it truly was the perfect day for a wedding.

Kurt had to chuckle to himself at how Lena had decided at the last moment that she wanted to pull up the wedding before anything else came up with the German government. So she pulled some strings and was able to wiggle her way into a beautiful hall for the wedding to be held in.

She had decided that they would have a Jewish wedding, since the Hummel's weren't overly religious, and Noah's family was. So Noah's rabbi would be doing the service, while Kurt was in charge of the party that would follow, which he had to admit might be the talk of the town for a number of weeks.

Glancing at the clock on the wall he smiled, Quinn would be arriving any minute and he couldn't wait. Kurt had been on a high for the last couple of days getting everything ready for when she arrived.

He gripped his cane tighter as a whistle blew, glancing down the track he saw Quinn's train pulling into the station. Kurt tried to contain his excitement as the train slowed to a stop, the last few clouds of steam escaping the engine.

When the train stopped moving Kurt moved along with the groups of friends and family, hoping to find Quinn in a timely manner, so they could arrive on time for the wedding, or otherwise face the bride's wrath.

Kurt adjusted his grip on his cane, his anticipation growing as he heard another whistle, indicating the train on the opposite track was arriving. He ignored the other train and moved further towards the engine when he didn't see Quinn vacate any of the cars at the end.

Weaving his way through the crowds of people he smiled at the scenes of loved ones reuniting, parent's hugging their children, lover's embracing, friends shaking hands and giving chaste kisses and a bushy haired man looking absolutely lost.

Kurt paused, A bushy haired man looking lost? Doing a double take, he looked at the man in detail, and his jaw dropped as he was sure he was gazing upon Blaine. It couldn't be, his mind was playing tricks with him, or he was daydreaming again.

Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, to ensure he wasn't dreaming, he searched the crowd again for the familiar face praying to anyone that would listen that he wasn't going crazy. But no matter how hard he searched he couldn't find the man again in the growing crowd.

Sighing, Kurt turned his efforts back to finding Quinn. He really had to let go of this fantasy he had. Kurt scanned the crowd again for Quinn, but instead caught a full on glimpse of Blaine standing no more than fifteen feet in front of him, staring at him with wide eyes.

Kurt's breath caught as he looked at Blaine hardly believing it to be true, his suitcase hung loosely in his hand. He wore tan trousers and a black pea coat. His hair was wild and curly, and his eyes were just as Kurt had remembered.

"Kurt!"

He turned his head towards the voice calling his name to see Quinn running towards him with her suitcase in hand. Once she was within arm's reach, she dropped the bag with a loud thump flashing Kurt a quick smile she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

Making Kurt stand there completely flabbergasted and even a little traumatized.

* * *

**February 22****nd****, 1919 – Cologne, Germany**

**Blaine**

Blaine had spent the two day train ride in the company of Emma and her adorable little boy Will, the dime store novel entirely forgotten. By the time they had reached Cologne, Emma had deemed Blaine clean enough to hold her son, and the two spent the last two hours of the trip giggling and playing and intense game of peek-a-boo while Emma watched on with a smile.

"So why are 'ou going to Düsseldorf?" She asked. Blaine paused and let Will clutch at his fingers, watching as the little boy tried to get his tiny hands all the way round.

"My…friend, we met during the war and…I just want to see him again." Emma smiled knowingly, reaching out to smooth down her son's dark hair.

"Oui, many German men 'an make 'ou feel that way."

The two got off at Cologne and Emma bid Blaine goodbye, but not before giving him a tight hug. Emma went as far as giving him a chaste kiss to the cheek before reaching out and rubbing the germs both off his cheek and her lips with a freshly pressed handkerchief which she then stuffed into the front pocket of Blaine's dark coat.

"Prenez soin, Blaine." She said softly dragging the pram along behind her. Blaine waved a hand, clutching the address she had given him in hopes of staying in contact.

"Vous aussi."

From Cologne to Düsseldorf was smooth sailing until he had actually arrived and scrambled off the train onto the busy platform and realized that he hadn't really thought this plan all the way through. It wasn't as if he knew where Kurt actually lived. He only that his father owned a garage, that he lived near the river and that his last name was Hummel.

Yep this was going to go smoothly. Blaine who had never been to Düsseldorf and hadn't, before knowing Kurt, even realized that there was a river, was about to embark on some grand adventure through the city with only knowing a handful of German words. Most which were very colourful and very offensive.

He pushed his way through the growing crowd, everyone barking off harsh words in loud German, and looked around for any exit. It was while he was standing there stupidly being jostled about by passengers and cheering family members that he spotted someone familiar.

For a moment, he didn't believe his eyes.

Standing maybe fifteen feet away was Kurt Hummel, dressed tastefully in a thick black pea coat with the collar pulled up to protect himself from the cool February wind and leaning on a sturdy cane. Blaine blinked and then reached up to rub his eyes, thinking that he must have gone crazy. For a second it seemed as if Kurt had seen him, had recognized him. Blaine couldn't believe his good fortune and was about ready to raise his hand and call to the other man, but the words died quickly when he spotted a beautiful young blond woman rush towards the German man, launching herself into his arms and kissing his cheek.

Blaine felt the world come to a complete stop.


	10. Chapter 9

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* * *

**IMPORTANT**

**From here on out anything in italics is spoken in German and anything in regular text is spoken in English. It is so much easier than us trying to translate.**

* * *

**February 22****nd****, 1919 - ****Düsseldorf****, Germany**

**Kurt**

Kurt felt frozen in place. Quinn's arms were wrapped around him and she was mumbling into his neck about how happy she was to see him again. He awkwardly patted her back, giving her a gentle squeeze in welcome. But his mind was racing. Only days before he was telling himself he would never see the British man again, yet here he was, standing on the same soil.

Kurt strained to see around Quinn but the blonde woman had him in a vice grip, holding the back of his head with one of her gloved hands, while the other stoked his back making it hard to move in any way to see if Blaine had fled during this little exchange.

Worry started to creep into his mind and Kurt maneuvered their embrace (since Quinn did not seem to be letting go any time soon) so that Kurt could find Blaine again. Giving Quinn a squeeze Kurt swayed their bodies so that he could scan the crowd again for Blaine. Quinn giggled at the affection that she thought Kurt was giving, while Kurt frantically searched for Blaine, spotting him in the same spot he had seen him last.

Blaine was looking around the station shuffling on his feet. His one hand was rubbing at the back of his neck while the other gripped tightly to the strap of the canvas bag that was now slumped on his shoulders.

He looked so handsome, even more than Kurt remembered. He looked healthier too, most likely because he was eating real food instead of the rations they were issued in the trenches. His cheeks were no longer hollowed out by lack of food, and the hair on his face was kept at bay by proper grooming. His black pea coat fit his broad shoulders perfectly, and his hair was wild, just as Kurt had imagined it to be, the dark curls framing his strong face, making him look young and healthy.

Blaine looked up, obviously feeling Kurt's gaze on him. As their eyes locked for the second time Kurt felt his heart begin to beat at an uncontrollable rate, while his body betrayed him by letting colour touch his cheeks.

Blaine glanced away without warning, frowning to himself and rubbing at the stubble on his jaw. Blaine turned his gaze back in Kurt's direction but his eyes didn't meet Kurt's.

Kurt frowned, trying to figure out what could be making Blaine look so upset and downtrodden when it hit him. Quinn. He was frowning at Quinn. Feeling like an idiot for not figuring it out sooner, Kurt pushed Quinn off himself roughly earning himself a squeak and an angry glare from the blonde. He gripped his cane tighter, grabbed Quinn's suitcase, and offered the arm that gripped his cane to her. When she declined, he shrugged and started to make his way towards Blaine as quickly as he could, on the off chance he would lose him again.

Kurt stopped abruptly in front of Blaine. His leg was throbbing from the combination of the cold and the exertion he was putting on it but he was insistent that his leg was not going to ruin this; no one was. Dropping Quinn's case on the ground at his feet Kurt waited, taking in Blaine's features up close. He was gorgeous; his honey brown eyes were bright as he watched Kurt with as much awe as Kurt watched him.

"_What is wrong with you, Kurt?_" Quinn asked, annoyance bleeding from her words as she stopped beside him, hands on her hips.

"_Nothing._" Kurt mumbled, never taking his eyes off Blaine.

Blaine on the other hand eyed Quinn, taking in her black pumps, her bright red cloche hat that matched the red pattern of the dress peeking out from under the hem of her tan coat that was belted at her slim waist.

Kurt felt a rush of anger go through him as he watched the way Blaine eyed Quinn intently. He loudly cleared his throat to get Blaine's attention back on him, doing the best in his power to block Blaine's view of the blonde.

Blaine scanned Kurt for a moment then smiled awkwardly, mumbling a quick "Hi."

Kurt switched quickly to English, letting out a breathy "Hello." He cleared his throat again suddenly feeling something lodge itself there. He watched Blaine run his hand through his curls. God, Kurt wanted to know what that felt like, to run his fingers through the thick curls gracing Blaine's head, and maybe find out more about the man, like how he would sound as-

The sound of Blaine shuffling on his feet brought Kurt's mind back to safer territory. Kurt glanced at Blaine who was looking at the ground, glancing up at him occasionally through his long lashes.

"So, I came to Germany." The British man said quietly, wincing as his cheeks began to colour.

Kurt smiled. "I can see that."

He had to hold back a chuckle at how adorable and awkward Blaine was being compared to when they had first met. This wasn't the same confident man he had met months before in that shell hole; he was different, more insecure, and even a bit scared.

Kurt smiled shyly, it was endearing to see Blaine acting as he was. It was calming knowing he wasn't the only fool standing on the platform.

From the corner of his eye he could see Quinn looking between the two men in front of her trying to figure out what was going on, mumbling under her breath she seemed to come to some sort of decision.

"_What on earth is going on?_" Quinn screeched pulling at Kurt's arm to break his attention from Blaine. Of course she would choose such a route, grab the attention of everyone in the vicinity to ensure she was answered.

Sighing, Kurt reluctantly looked away from Blaine to see a very annoyed and confused Quinn.

Tapping her foot, she looked between Kurt and Blaine waiting for an explanation.

"_Well?_" She asked, arching an eyebrow, her hip jutted out and her arms crossed over her chest.

Kurt ignored Quinn's question and turned his attention back to Blaine giving him an encouraging smile, since the poor man looked even more nervous than he had before. He glanced towards Quinn who glared at Blaine in return, making the British man wince.

Letting out a huff Kurt returned Quinn's glare with one of his own. If Quinn in anyway caused Blaine to flee in terror because of her intent to scare some sort of explanation out of the man she was in for a world of pain, in the form of a man that could hold a grudge like no other.

Satisfied with his silent threat, Kurt looked back to Blaine, who seemed to be fighting internally with himself his brow furrowed in concentration while he picked at the fraying strap of his pack.

With a sigh, Blaine looked up through his thick lashes, giving a weak, pained-filled smile. "I'm so sorry, Kurt, I should have- I should have…" Blaine shook his shaggy head as if he was trying to reassemble his thoughts. "I should go." Blaine said abruptly, before continuing to mumble to himself.

Kurt stood dumbstruck, blocking the rest of Blaine's ramblings from his mind as he tried to think of a way to persuade the man to stay. Just as Kurt had come up with a ruse that may work, a single word started him from his schemes.

"I'm sorry?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow, wondering if he had heard Blaine's mumbles correctly.

Blaine nodded towards Quinn, "...you and your girlfriend-"

"She is NOT my girlfriend!" Kurt yelled, groaning inwardly at his outburst which caught the attention of nearly everyone still milling about on the platform. All of whom seemed to be suddenly very interested in the crazy man screaming in English. Sighing in frustration, Kurt looked at his shoes noticing that he had missed a spot on the black leather when he had polished them earlier. Blaine must think he was a piece of work, screaming at him over such a small, insignificant comment. Stealing his courage, Kurt chanced a glance up at Blaine to see a hopeful smile plastered on the other man's face.

Intrigued, Kurt watched Blaine as he fought to keep his smile from growing more, it honestly was adorable how he tried to conceal his emotions.

"Oh, sorry- I just assumed-" Blaine mumbled, hiking his bag back on his shoulder. His eyes now plastered on Kurt, the way he felt it should be.

Kurt raised a hand to stop Blaine from continuing.

"It's fine" he assured Blaine. "Quinn was my nurse from when I was in the hospital..." Kurt said gesturing to his leg with his cane, "I invited her to my sister's wedding."

Blaine's eyes widened in shock, "Oh, I probably should have written- but I didn't have your address," Blaine rambled, as he continued to fidget with his bag strap, "and I don't know how many Kurt Hummel's there are in Düsseldorf, so I was basically just going to walk along the river until I found a shop-"

Kurt fought to hold back his laughter, but lost when a small chuckle broke free startling Blaine from his ramblings.

Blaine gave a small smile, his cheeks turning red as he began to rub at his neck again, mumbling a soft apology. Kurt let his eye's wander from Blaine for a few moments to look around the platform. The crowds were thinning now that the afternoon train had arrived and the next train was not scheduled to arrive for another twenty minutes or so. Smoke and steam billowed from the vents in the lobby into the cold air making the platform seem to be covered in an enchanting fog.

Quinn let out a loud huff of annoyance to gain Kurt's attention again. Rolling his eyes Kurt turned quickly to look straight into her green eyes. "_Seriously Hummel, who is this man? And why are you speaking to him in English, and why the hell are you blushing?!_" She blurted, breathing a bit heavier from the lack of air.

"_I am not blushing._" Kurt hissed.

"_Oh, really?_" She asked sarcastically, jutting her hip out more than before "_than why are your cheeks as red as my hat?_"

She gave him a satisfied smile as his cheeks began to turn a deeper shade of red. "_So, who is he?_"

"_None of your business._" He said through clenched teeth, as he turned back to Blaine with a smile, ignoring the frustrated noise coming from Quinn.

Blaine looked as confused as ever, his brow raised at the exchange he had just witnessed, and an awkward smile on his face.

Steeling his nerves, Kurt finally asked Blaine the question that he was almost too afraid to ask. "So, you came all the way to Germany to see me?" He asked, watching Blaine with hope brimming in his eyes.

Blaine's eyes widened in surprise, and a small smile formed on his lips. "Well, of course, who else would I come to Germany to see?" He shrugged his shoulders. "I mean, me and most Germans don't have the best track record..."

"That's true." Kurt chuckled, as he admired the lopsided grin on Blaine's face, wondering how he had just days before decided to give up on the man.

Kurt smiled to himself earning a puzzled glance from Blaine, _yeah like that was going to happen now._

* * *

**Blaine**

Blaine quickly found himself immersed in the quick-flowing, light banter that passed effortlessly between him and Kurt. It warmed someplace quite low and personal in Blaine's gut to feel this smooth progress of communication that rolled back and forth between them. If Blaine truly wanted to he could close his eyes and seemingly forget the last three months, hell forget the last four years, and pretend that he and the very striking German were old friends. However, Kurt was dirt-free and clean-shaven and looked very attractive in a pressed ensemble that put everything Blaine had ever owned to shame, and Blaine couldn't help but feel slightly nervous and winded at the prospect of actually spending time with the German man.

Then Kurt smiled and Blaine's knees almost gave out. How could anyone that beautiful be so damn adorable on top of it? The light twitch of those thin lips seemed to light up Kurt's entire face and for a brief moment Blaine wished that it could be something that was only his to see. It allowed him to see the boy Kurt had once been, before all that dreadful war business. It internally urged Blaine to swath Kurt into the softest quilt his grandmother had ever made, set him in a corner and just protect him from the entire world, even though the German towered over him by at least a good three inches.

That's the moment things sort of went to hell, obviously in the best sense possible as it made Blaine alarmingly conscious of the quickly diminishing space situated between him and Kurt. There was really no need to scare him off already.

The petite and alarmingly attractive blonde standing lamely by Kurt's left arm jumped to life. She juggled the strap of her bag into the left hand and raised her right, bringing it down on Kurt's thin arm with a mighty blow that was muffled by the thick jacket he was wearing. It was quickly followed by another one and then another, all the while Blaine looked on in shock as Kurt tried to hunch away, raising his arms to protect himself from the onslaught. Quinn, as Kurt had briefly introduced, was like a wild woman. She was shouting loudly and continually hitting the poor boy with this crazed look in her wide green eyes. Blaine didn't understand one word that flowed from her upturned mouth but her voice was delicate and whimsical.

"_Oh, my God! It's him, isn't it!? Why the hell didn't you tell me he was British?_"

It quickly became obvious that Blaine need not worry about Kurt as the man seemed quite accustomed to being accosted like this, seeing as he calmly tried to maneuver his way out of her arm flailing radius while sternly shouting something back in German.

"_I just knew you would react like this, that's why._"

"Umm. Bad time?" Blaine asked. Kurt seemed to ignore him momentarily, as he dropped the suitcase in his hands so he could use his arms to shield his face from yet another onslaught of slaps.

"…could this be about the whole 'she's not my girlfriend'. Does she know she's not your girlfriend?"

That quickly caught the other man's attention. Kurt's bright eyes turned away from Quinn and landed on Blaine, in fact he angled his entire body to face the Brit. Blaine in response hunched his shoulders and seemed to curl in on himself. He wasn't used to having someone's full attention directed at him and instantly he could just feel the heat spread across his cheeks, ears and neck.

"_WHAT!_"

Quinn took this as a prime opportunity to land a very hard and high placed smack to Kurt's right shoulder, where the fabric of his coat was stretched tighter to accommodate a broader set of shoulders then it had be designed for. The man responded with a sharp intake of breath and a furrowing of his shapely brows before turning his head about to glare at the blonde woman standing smugly at his side who continued to hit at him.

"_Seriously, woman. Stop hitting me!_"

Quinn proudly continued to smack Kurt, each new hit punctuated with soft whispering words that remained foreign to Blaine but caused Kurt to flinch away again and look around nervously. Kurt licked his lips, more out of habit then anything. Blaine watched intently, his eyes following the slow drag of the pink tongue and he tried to dry his sweat soaked palms on his wrinkled trousers.

"_If you stop hitting me, I'll explain._"Kurt muttered softly which stopped Quinn from launching yet another attack. Instead she pulled back placing her dainty hands on her tiny belted waist, the carryon bag swinging from a thin wrist and waited patiently as if for Kurt to continue. She wore the look of triumph well.

Kurt seemed to sigh, licking his lips once again, drawing all of Blaine's attention to his slick mouth. They made brief eye contact before Kurt turned his face away with a light blush dusting across his pale cheeks and started murmuring, much to the woman's amusement. "_It's complicated but we kind of met during the war when he tried to kill me. Instead we hit it off and now he's here because he wanted to see me._"

Blaine continued to stand there awkwardly, shifting lightly on his feet and nodding dumbly at a passersby who actually took time to note the stranger than normal scene. He was confused and a little annoyed at being left out but it was something that one got pretty used to when having served in the army.

Blaine watched, mystified as this _look_ came over Quinn's pretty face. It was one that he had seen countless times before on the face of any woman that had seen something tiny and adorable, usually a baby of any kind. Her eyebrows arched and her delicate hands were raised to cover her mouth but Blaine heard a soft rush of an "awww" escape beforehand. She turned to Blaine with the wide, glassy eyes of a true romantic and lowered her fingers just enough that he could clearly see that she was giving him a dopey smile and muttering something German in breathy voice.

"_That's so romantic._"

For Blaine this was probably the most surreal moment of his life, it was like he had been stuck in some sort of moving film that was starting to become trendy, only this time the editors had left out the subtitles leaving Blaine alone and confused with no way of knowing how he should be reacting.

He gave Quinn a small smile in return before looking at Kurt with such a confused expression; his thick eyebrows arched so high that they got lost under the sea of dark puffy curls across Blaine's forehead. Kurt was ignoring him again. The man's bright eyes were downcast, staring at the tops of his leather shoes as he fidgeted about, grabbing Quinn's luggage once again. The blush on his cheeks was unmistakable and that made Blaine even more curious about what the woman had said, and he had just opened his mouth, ready to ask when said woman interrupted him with a startling cry.

"_What do you mean he tried to kill you!?_"

Kurt's sigh was audible as he stood up straight, hoisting the suitcase off the snow covered platform and tightening his grip on the handle of his cane. If Blaine hadn't seen the way Kurt had limped closer he would have never thought anything wrong with the man, but looks could be deceiving. Nick seems pretty normal and he has a whole slew of issues rattling around up there.

"_Well, he didn't and that has to mean something._"

Kurt looked away from Quinn and that seemed to end their conversation. He turned to Blaine and smiling slightly reached a semi-occupied hand as if to relieve Blaine of his suitcase. Blaine shook his head, large, loose curls flopping about as he reached down and grasped the cold handle. For a moment he wished that he had worn gloves but quickly remembered that he had given them to his mother.

He hiked the case higher and smiled, enjoying the way that Kurt faltered slightly and blushed again. If Blaine didn't know any better he would say that the attraction he held towards the German was being reciprocated. Quinn was still standing off to the side, her face held that silly, lovesick expression as she continued to smile sweetly at Blaine.

"So, uhh, what's going on here?" Blaine asked, eyes flickering between the adorably flushing Kurt and the eerie grin that Quinn was giving him.

Kurt just calmly shrugged; glancing over at the spectacle the woman was making of herself and shaking his head solemnly. "Just ignore her." He replied, his accent thicker than before.

Blaine tried to ignore the fact that the sound made pleasant patches of goose flesh rise on the backs of his arms and a small tingle of fear race down his spine. Instead he turned all his attention onto how the intense gaze was making him feel very uncomfortable, as if the woman was undressing him in a very non-sexual way. She seemed to be trying to pick him over and figure out just how he ticked while being insanely enthusiastic about his presence here.

She seemed the perfect fit for her job as a nurse with lovely bedside manner, being all docile and gentile before flying into flailing rages but ultimately getting her way. Blaine had to pause and think. Maybe once past that official awkward stage, Beiste would have actually liked to have the girl on her staff. Sometimes crazy got the work done.

"Does she always just stare like that?" Blaine had to ask or risk blurting out everything that had been running through his mind and in German or not he was sure that she would pick up on the fact that some of the things he would say weren't too flattering. Besides she was a friend of Kurt's, close enough to be invited to his sister's wedding, and if he wanted to make a good impression on those closest to Kurt then this was a good place to start.

Kurt shot Blaine a dry look, all traces of any former discomfort long gone, before glancing back over at Quinn and cracking a grin and letting out a soft chuckle.

"If I can recall correctly, it seems to be a habit of yours as well."

* * *

**Kurt**

Kurt couldn't help but smile as he watched a blush rise on Blaine's cheeks. He looked so charming and sweet with the colour on his cheekbones that Kurt had to remind himself that he couldn't and shouldn't throw his arms around the man's shoulders and hold him. They were in public for god's sake, and he knew that his brain had much more then snuggling in mind.

A train whistle blew behind them, making Kurt jump. The noise reminded him that he had a schedule to keep otherwise his sister would have his head. Glancing at the iron clock on the far wall, he saw it was quarter to one. He had some time but he needed to get going, otherwise they would be late.

"So, where are you staying?" Kurt asked, watching Blaine as his blush darkened.

"Oh, um… I didn't really think that far," Blaine said quietly rubbing his neck "but I was thinking I would attempt to find a hotel."

This was basically a dream come true for Kurt. Blaine had nowhere to go, in a foreign country, where the poor British man didn't know a stitch of the language (and the words he did know were likely wildly inappropriate) and here he was standing in front of Blaine fluent in German with a bed for him to sleep in. Kurt had to smile at the small ray of good fortune.

"Why don't you stay with me?" Kurt said without hesitation, a broad smile on his face even though internally half of him was kicking himself for his word vomit, while the other was dancing for joy. He was sure that he had now successfully made things awkward.

"That's okay, I don't want to be any trouble." Blaine murmured, readjusting the weight of the bag on his shoulder as he gave a weak grin. "You can just point me in the right direction of a hotel. I mean, I-"

"No." Kurt said sternly, stopping Blaine in his tracks. Taking a deep breath, Kurt calmed himself. This time, he wouldn't let Blaine go so easily. "No, really Blaine, it would be no trouble at all, we have plenty of room."

The grin that spread across Blaine's face for a fleeting moment was all that Kurt needed to see to know he made the right decision asking Blaine to stay with him. He would figure out how to break the news to his family later but for now, all he wanted was to see that smile again.

Blaine rubbed at the stubble on his cheeks. "If it isn't any trouble," his smile returned, "I would love that."

Kurt returned Blaine's smile, with just as much enthusiasm. "It's no trouble at all."

"Kurt?" Quinn asked quietly, touching his arm lightly to get his attention. The two men raised an eyebrow at Quinn, who gave an apologetic smile. "_As cute as this little exchange is, we really need to get going otherwise your sister is going to have a cow._"

Nodding, Kurt turned to Blaine. "We should head out. The wedding is in a few hours and I still need to get ready."

Without a second thought, Kurt grabbed Blaine's free hand, with the intention of leading them towards the doors of the lobby before remembering that he was carrying Quinn's bag. Kurt hesitated, looking between their clasped hands to the offending bag, then to his blasted cane. He never thought he would resent the object more until now. With a sigh of regret, Kurt released Blaine's warm hand to grab the cold leather handle of Quinn's damned suitcase.

Catching onto his dilemma, Quinn came rushing to his side to grab the strap before Kurt had even reached the handle. With her gloved hand holding tight to the strap, she gave Kurt a devilish grin.

"_Oh I can handle my bag just fine. You just lead the way and make sure this one doesn't run off on you._" She said with a wink, her green eyes glittering with mischief.

Blaine glanced between the two of them, no doubt catching a glimpse of a blush returning to Kurt's cheeks. He looked as confused as ever and even a bit frustrated with himself at not being able to understand their conversation, but Kurt noticed that with every word spoken Blaine would squeeze Kurt's gloved hand just a bit tighter, and Kurt knew that with enough time the man would begin to learn the intricacies of the German language.

Kurt paused in his thoughts to scold himself; he had no idea how long Blaine had intended to stay, so to even bring his hopes up about the idea of Blaine learning his native tongue was just asking for heartache. Blaine was only visiting, and if he had any sense he would leave the country sooner rather than later, since everything was becoming complicated.

Quinn hummed quietly as she readjusted her grip on her bag, but before she got the secure grip Kurt knew she was attempting, Blaine reached out to grab the strap from her delicate hand.

"I can't let you carry this," Blaine said sweetly, to a very confused Quinn. "It's the least I can do." He finished with a perfect smile. Blaine's face fell at Quinn's blank stare and awkward smile; he looked at Kurt a silent plea in his eyes for Kurt to translate for him.

Without missing a beat Kurt relayed Blaine's words to Quinn, her confusion quickly changing to understanding. She nodded towards Blaine, her smile broad. "_Oh, he is charming._"

She giggled as she adjusted the small bag on her arm, all the while devouring Blaine with her eyes.

Kurt gave her a forced grin, gripping Blaine's hand a little tighter, while beating down the green monster that was fighting to re-emerge.

Blaine gave Kurt a confused look. "Are we going?" he asked as he strengthened his hold on Quinn's bag, as well as Kurt's hand.

"Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking..." Kurt replied weakly, gently tugging Blaine in the direction of the station's doors, as well as keeping a watchful eye on Quinn to ensure she wouldn't get left behind.

As they made their way through the station, Kurt could hear the murmurs of those in the crowd and was happy that Blaine could not understand their meaning. Instead, Blaine nodded his head to everyone and gave a cheerful hello. Kurt, on the other hand kept his head low and ignored the odd looks and painful words that were sent their way, quickening their pace in the hopes of leaving the hatred behind.

Kurt knew the world to be cruel. He had experienced the hurtful words countless times, but hearing the words being whispered now as he's acting on such impulses just made the jabs hurt even more, especially since he was finally truly happy again.

Pushing his thoughts aside, Kurt exhaled the breath he was holding as soon as they passed through the station's front doors and onto the street. Without missing a step Kurt headed in the direction of his home, his hand gripping Blaine's tighter as he maneuvered them onto the cobblestone street before slowing back to a normal pace.

The trio walked in silence, letting Kurt get lost in the ramblings of his mind. The only sounds were the clacking of Quinn's heels on the street and the afternoon hustle and bustle of the city.

The lack of conversation was starting to make Kurt nervous as he continued to lead the way to his family's home. They were all so lost in their thoughts, that Kurt dreaded what was to come of all of this silence, and his mind imagined disastrous results.

Giving up on any attempts of breaking the silence Kurt glanced over at Blaine, to only be met by the man's warm hazel eyes that were staring at him. Kurt smiled as Blaine's chilled cheeks reddened further.

Blaine casually coughed into his elbow lifting Quinn's bag further off of the ground, turning his eyes back towards the frozen river.

Embarrassed at being caught Kurt gripped his cane tighter, unconsciously speeding up the movement of the group.

"_Kurt, please slow down,_" Quinn pleaded leaning around Blaine's broad shoulders to look at him. "_I can't walk very fast in these new shoes of mine._"

Mumbling an apology Kurt slowed the pace again earning himself another unwelcome lull of silence.

"_He's adorable, by the way._" Quinn smiled innocently as she peered around Blaine again.

"_Really?! Are we going to do this right now?_" Kurt asked looking across a confused Blaine.

"_Why not?_" she smiled impishly. "_It's not like he can understand us, and we are complementing him-_"

"_It doesn't matter, it's rude._" Kurt snapped, ending the conversation.

Her smile turned to a smirk as she raised an eyebrow at Kurt's reaction. "_Whatever you say, Mr. Hummel._"

Rolling his eyes, Kurt led them around a corner accidentally bumping Blaine's shoulder. The simple connection of their clasped hands sent pleasant chills down Kurt's spine that warmed his abdomen, along with his cheeks.

Both men offered an apology simultaneously, breaking the connection of their hands and offering awkward smiles of embarrassment.

The wind picked up as they continued on their way, grateful that he had his collar covering his neck and his gloves on his hands, even though a part of him wished he could feel the warmth of Blaine's hands again. Glancing at Blaine's hands he noticed that the man wasn't wearing any gloves, and the one that was clutching Quinn's suitcase was red from the cold. Without a word Kurt reached across Blaine and grabbed the handle, giving Blaine a look when he attempted to protest.

"It's a different kind of cold here." Blaine observed breaking the silence of the group, looking at the people rushing in the streets, their breath leaving a cloud in their wake.

"Oh?"

Blaine nodded his warm gaze falling to Kurt, "In England, it's a humid cold, here not so much." He shrugged, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. "But then again, you don't get all of the rain that we do either."

"Thank god for that, my leg doesn't handle rain well." Kurt chuckled peering down at the limb in question.

Frowning, Blaine followed Kurt's gaze at his leg, his face contorting into a pained expression. He looked straight into Kurt's eyes. "What happened?"

Kurt was surprised by the change in Blaine's tone. "Oh, umm, I just got shot." He stated simply, noticing the anger that flashed across Blaine's face. "Honestly, it's not as bad as it seems, if I didn't have this," he nodded towards his leg again. "I would most likely be rotting in a shell hole like Bobby."

Blaine's face was unreadable from the sheer number of emotions that crossed it. "So, it's better?" He asked, his voice quieter than before.

"Yes, it's better." Kurt assured him.

Nodding, Blaine turned his gaze towards the river again watching as couples walked hand in hand along its banks. "Germany is a beautiful place."

Kurt hummed appreciatively, looking at the trees that lined the sidewalks their limbs covered in a thin layer of hoarfrost, as people walked past speaking in gentle rumblings. "That it is." Kurt agreed, smiling at Blaine for a brief moment before pausing to cross a street.

Taking this moment to maneuver to be on Kurt's left Quinn snuck beside him, "_How much longer Kurt? These heels are killing me._"

Kurt gave her a sympathetic smile. "_Not much longer. We only have another block and a half._"

Quinn nodded. "_Is he being charming?_" Quinn asked, looking towards Blaine.

Kurt smirked. "_Wouldn't you like to know?_"

"_Of course! I mean, look at him, he's adorable, handsome, and do you see those arms?_" She all but screeched, making both men flinch from the piercing sound. "_You could hang off of those arms and the man wouldn't even notice._"

Kurt gaped at Quinn. "_You have lost your mind._"

"_No, you have._" She stated picking up her pace slightly. "_This man is perfect, as soon as you get into your house you are taking him to your room and you are to have your naughty way with him._"

"Quinn!" Kurt shrieked.

"Is everything alright?" Blaine asked, giving Quinn a quick look before his eyes returned to Kurt's reddening face.

"Everything is fine." Kurt whispered, sending a glare Quinn's way.

"_Are you insane?_" Kurt hissed at the blonde.

"_No, but you are._" She huffed, turning from Kurt to Blaine. "_He is the perfect man. You should be doing anything in your power to make him stay-_"

"_I am not going to have sex with him._" Kurt said through gritted teeth.

She sighed. "_I'm not saying you have too, I'm just saying it's an option_."

"_Yes, well, we are only friends, so no such things will ever happen between us._"

"_Oh, you think so, do you?_" Quinn smiled wolfishly, looking Blaine up and down again. "_I'm sure something may change that._"

"_And pray tell what would that be?_" Kurt asked, getting annoyed at how Quinn kept looking at Blaine.

"_I don't know,_" She shrugged, "_but if I had a man that gorgeous running around my house for a few days, I would test the boundaries of being more than a friend._"

"_You are incorrigible!_" Kurt exclaimed, taking a glance at Blaine who was smiling at Kurt and Quinn even though he had no idea what was being said, thank god. "_You never used to speak like this before,_" Kurt continued "_I think Rolph has been rubbing off on you-_"

Kurt paused, noticing the grimace that flashed across Quinn's face at the mention of Rolph. "Quinn?"

"_Not now, Kurt._" Quinn pleaded her green eyes filling with unshed tears. "_I promise I will explain everything before I leave, but not now._"

Confused and concerned Kurt nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. "_Do you need a hug?_" He asked seriously.

Quinn smiled, a giggle escaping her lips. "_Thank you, but I would rather get into your house to warm up._"

"_Not much further._" Kurt assured her. "_It is just a few doors down._"

The three of them finished their walk in silence, stopping when Kurt did. Blaine turned towards Kurt smiling. "So, is this it?" Blaine asked looking towards the grey bricked brownstone in front of them.

Smiling, Kurt nodded. "Welcome to the Hummel household."


	11. Chapter 10

**We're so sorry for the wait, again. But next week we'll be back at school and writing should start going a bit smoother. Thanks for all your patience! Now, on with the chapter!**

* * *

**IMPORTANT**

**From here on out anything in italics is spoken in German and anything in regular text is spoken in English. It is so much easier than us trying to translate.**

* * *

**February 22****nd****, 1919 - ****Düsseldorf, Germany**

**Blaine**

Blaine found the walk to the Kurt's home to be a relatively quiet one. Their conversation consisted mostly of small talk about the weather, though Kurt and Quinn seemed to talk more together in thick German. The February weather was pleasant but left a cool tingling in their lungs while the sun, which hung low in the sky, soaked into their thick wool jackets.

Quinn's heels clicked against the side walk in a charming 'tap tap' pattern that helped to calm Blaine every time a passer-by would shout something to another in German. It was all so unnerving that every so often Blaine's fingers would twitch nervously around the thick canvas strap of his bag. Neither of his new companions seemed to notice or if they did Blaine supposed that maybe they were just being polite. Kurt was tromping in front, leading the way down the bustling streets while Quinn sashayed next to him smiling at all the quaint brick buildings that lined the sidewalks.

Blaine found himself startled when Kurt stopped suddenly, almost crashing into the sturdy back of the German man. They were standing on a cleared sidewalk in a tightly packed residential area with large three story brownstones sitting along the street, pressed neatly against one another. It wasn't exactly pretty as there was no room for anything green to survive, no planted trees or tiny patches of grass to brighten up the neighbourhood. Everything was a solemn, washed out gray.

Kurt turned and smiled warmly over his shoulder at Quinn and Blaine, who both returned it, though hers was suspiciously larger than his. Blaine was at this moment trying not to panic over the fact that this was real, that he had found Kurt and was finally standing alongside the beautiful man who was grinning so wide that it made Blaine's cheeks ache for him.

"So, this is it?" Blaine felt like a complete moron, of course this was Kurt's home or why would he have stopped them there. Obviously being around sensible people aided in lowering his smarts dramatically. To hide the embarrassed flush that was making its way up the back of his neck Blaine turned his attention to the slate coloured home they were standing in front of. It had a tall wooden door, a decorative window situated above, and a rusty wrought-iron gate to its left. It was unremarkable; someplace that one could simply pass by without a second glance.

Kurt's expression didn't change as he nodded, lightly jerking his head in the direction of the house. Quinn clicked her heels, pulled her bag higher and took a few steps forward while rubbing her leather clad hands together to fight off the cold.

"Welcome to the Hummel household."

Like a gentleman, Kurt gestured Blaine and Quinn ahead of him even though the blond woman was almost at the door already. There were no stairs, just a small concrete lip to stop water from flowing in under the bottom of the door, which Blaine stepped over and walked straight up to the building. Pausing, he blushed and set down Quinn's suitcase before reaching out to grab Kurt's cane that he was juggling back and forth between his hands while trying to reach into his pocket for the key.

The German man jerked back, alarmed, almost dropping everything as he tried to process Blaine's intentions. He shot Blaine a small closed mouth smile, and the Englishman almost passed out. Kurt was so alarmingly attractive with his cheeks pink from the cold and his eyes bright in the sunlight that Blaine had to take a moment and remember to actually hold onto the cane.

Watching Kurt pull his gloves off with his teeth almost put Blaine into cardiac arrest. He had to look away, the flush across his face painfully evident of where his thoughts had been leading to. Over the top of Kurt's shoulder he made eye contact with Quinn, who up until now had been eerily silent. She was still standing by Kurt's elbow fiddling absentmindedly with the leather strap of her smaller bag while giving Blaine the most knowing smirk he had ever seen on a woman's face. Her bright painted mouth seemed to stretch further upwards when Kurt finally get a hold of the brass key and leaned forward, his backside pushing outwards, and unlocked the door.

The inside was much cosier then the outside. As soon as Kurt pushed open the door a wave of warm air rushed out and slapped the trio in the face with the delicious smell of baking and for a moment Blaine found it hard to breath. Quinn was the first to enter, lightly stomping her heels on the sidewalk to clear any traces of snow before sauntering through the doorway with Blaine following slowly behind her and Kurt bringing up the rear having paused to let the other two pass. Blaine took in the entranceway. There was a staircase immediately to the left while straight ahead was a short hallway where a small dark table was pushed against the wall next to a coat rack where a long tweed coat was hanging.

"Frau Braun?" Kurt brushed past Blaine, pulling the heavy door closed behind him while holding Blaine's suitcase and calling out down the hallway. When no one appeared Kurt directed them up the stairs to the second floor while explaining that the widow living on the main floor of their brownstone was most likely already at the church. Blaine quirked an eyebrow questioningly but his brain blanked when Kurt reached out with his free hand and grabbed Blaine's wrist, both urging the Brit up the stairs and helping hold himself up.

The Hummel's apartment was bright and clean with a distinct feeling of home, so much so that Blaine didn't think that he would ever want to leave even as he mourned the loss of warmth from Kurt's hand. The space between the door and the open kitchen was organized with wrought-iron hooks running along the wall where Kurt hung up his coat and where Blaine rested Kurt's cane. He then helped Quinn out of her jacket, waiting patiently as she shoved her gloves into the pocket before hanging it up next to his. Blaine stood there awkwardly watching the interaction as they murmured to each other softly in German.

"_You should offer him a drink." _Blaine couldn't understand what Quinn had just murmured into Kurt's ear but it made him slightly jealous. However Kurt's heavy sigh and quick roll of his eyes directed at Quinn's smug smile surely suggested that Kurt was not amused and more than likely tempted to give her a more then delicate push.

"_Really… Did you just- You're really not helping matters." _Kurt stammered back making Quinn's smile widen and Blaine's triangular eyebrows furrow.

"_It's only the polite thing to do." _ She replied in a sing-song voice. Blaine eventually tuned out their little spat, it was hard to follow when he didn't know the language, instead he turned his eyes onto their new surroundings.

Straight ahead was the kitchen where copper pots and pans dangled from a heavy looking pot rack, the walls were decorated with polished porcelain tiles in warm hues. The stove that was pressed against the wall was shiny and well cared for though older and the edge of a small sink was just visible from around the corner. Directly to Blaine's left was another set of wooden stairs that led up to what was surely the attic.

"Aren't you a little warm?"

Kurt's soft voice startled Blaine out of his daze. The man was standing next to a smiling Quinn who under her jacket was wearing a well-tailored traveling dress with matching heels; Blaine blushed realizing that they must have been standing there awhile watching him daydream.

"Uhh...Y-yeah." Blaine stuttered setting Quinn's case down, realizing that he had still been holding it. He also dropped his bag, wincing when it hit the polished wooden floor with a dull thud. Rushed and thoroughly embarrassed he yanked at the large metal buttons of his jacket and scrabbled to pull his wool pea coat off his broad shoulders. In retrospect it was probably humorous to watch a twenty year old man struggle to remove something as simple as his coat, but Blaine hobbled about trying to jerk his arms out of the sleeves, flapping and waving them like a mad bird, while the two German's laughed at his predicament. When finally free, Blaine wanted nothing more than to heave the bloody thing across the room but was stopped by the fact Kurt and Quinn might see it as quite juvenile and he very much wanted to make a good impression, even if he had already made a complete fool of himself.

Instead of making a scene, Blaine walked calmly to one of the hooks and hung his coat, all while blushing hotly under the gaze of his two companions. Kurt smiled sweetly, gesturing to the stairs while turning his head to mumble something to Quinn who smiled widely and nodded. Kurt smiled in response, reaching out and picking up Quinn's suitcase while the woman brushed past, her heels clicking on the steps as she sauntered up the stairs with Kurt close behind. Blaine watched them, slightly stunned until the German man pause midway up the staircase, leaning heavily on the thick wooden railing and turned to look at the Englishman with a very saucy expression.

"Well, grab your bag Mr Anderson. There's no bellhop in this lovely establishment." Kurt smirked as Blaine reached down to grab his own rumpled and scuffed bag before moving to follow them up.

"Well that's not fair. Why are you carrying hers?" He joked, coming up the stairs and stopping alongside Kurt. The taller man laughed, leaning out and bumping their shoulders together in a move that made Blaine's chest flutter and gut tighten. It warmed him to have this easy camaraderie between them, and it made Blaine almost giddy with relief after all that pent up fear of disappointment.

"That's because I'm a gentleman." Kurt shot back, now continuing up to where Quinn stood at the open entrance to the highest floor. Blaine followed, reaching out and holding Kurt's elbow to make sure that he wouldn't fall. Immediately upon entering the top floor there was a wall decorated with dark framed photos depicting a straight-faced, attractive family and a narrow path of floor that opened up into a comfy sitting area. Kurt took the lead, talking to Quinn in thick German and Blaine watched as the two walked almost into the sitting room only to turn and walk through an open door that had been completely overlooked. Kurt emerged only seconds later, pulling the door closed behind him, looking up at Blaine and smiling.

"Come on, I'll show you where you'll be sleeping." Blaine felt incredibly nervous now as he followed Kurt to the door closest to him. Despite Kurt's put together manner, the inside of his room was the definition of chaotic, with articles of freshly mended and half sown clothing laying haphazardly over every available surface. It looked as if the entirety of Kurt's wardrobe had exploded. Situated along the left wall was a lone bed, cleared of most of the mess but with several articles of freshly ironed clothing carefully laid out.

"I hope that you don't mind sharing." Blaine looked up at Kurt, noting that there was an even pinker hue to his cheeks. Their eyes met briefly, Kurt's blush darkening, before Blaine turned away. He tried to brush it off but the hot heat in his gut just wouldn't go away and for a moment he thought that this might have been a very, very bad idea.

"No, it's perfect. I've slept in much worse conditions, with seventeen men. Most of whom didn't bathe. You seem pretty clean to me."

Kurt smiled and Blaine realized that he was doomed. He could never sleep in the same bed as this handsome man without being indecent, but he promised himself to try and be as much a gentleman as Kurt. Even though he knew he would never be able to keep it up.

"Do you have a suit in your bag?" Kurt was gesturing to the scuffed and dirt-stained thing Blaine was still holding. "Oh, you can put it here."

He walked over, delicately picking up half-finished clothing and placing them on what was obviously his work table, going by the expensive sewing machine stationed there.

Blaine set his bag down on the dresser, untying and pulling open the top. He cringed at the sight of all the wrinkles and musty travel odour. He looked up, an expression of embarrassment across his face.

"Sorry, it's a little wrinkled." He pulled out the black cotton jacket he had worn to his father's funeral; along with the deep creases, there might have been a few stains of unidentified alcohol. Kurt wrinkled his nose at the sight and then clapped his hands together in delight, bright eyes running over the rack of clothing that stood next to his desk.

"Good, because I think that I might have something that would look perfect on you." He calmly walked over to the rack, pulling some well-tailored pieces off wooden hangers and brought them over to the bed, laying them down precisely. It was an attractive gray silk suit, accompanied by a white dress shirt.

Blaine cocked an eyebrow, slightly taken aback as to why Kurt was going through all this trouble to get him dressed properly.

"I'm sorry Kurt. I'm a little confused." Kurt turned to look at Blaine, having moved to the other side of the bed to start sifting through his own pile of clothing, separating out the white shirt and dress socks.

"They're for you to wear to the wedding." He stated, moving back to pull out his sock garters, inspecting to see that the clips hadn't fallen off. Blaine suddenly felt dizzy, as if his chest was contracting and expanding in spurts, his fingers started twitching uncontrollably and he suddenly felt the need to for a smoke. Instead he ran a heavy hand along the nape of his neck while looking around trying not to make eye contact.

"I…I really don't want to intru-" Kurt cut Blaine off before he could finish that thought, placing down whatever it was that he had been holding and looking straight at Blaine.

"You are not intruding, so don't feel like you are. Besides, you came all this way it would be a shame if you missed out on a good German party." He winked at Blaine before turning away and starting to unbutton his shirt. This new situation didn't make Blaine feel any better, instead he felt hotter and more nervous than he ever had in his entire life.

* * *

**Kurt**

Kurt limped back towards the bed, unbuttoning his shirt as he moved. Kurt slipped off his blue (_periwinkle, _he scolded himself) shirt to replace it with the crisp white dress shirt.

As the shirt fell from his shoulders and was caught in his hands, Kurt heard a strangled noise from behind him. Intrigued, Kurt turned his body slightly to see Blaine with a shocked look on his face.

Blaine's eyes were wide and skimming up and down Kurt's torso, taking in Kurt's pale skin and delicately defined muscles and a hand was placed over his mouth as if he was trying to stop the noise from escaping.

Raising an eyebrow Kurt fought to keep back the rising blush on his skin. "Are you okay?" Kurt asked, a coy smile playing on his lips.

Blushing all the way to his ears, Blaine tore his eyes from Kurt and looked out the window. "Yeah, it was just a long trip, you know."

He yawned dramatically to make his point.

Kurt couldn't help but gently roll his eyes at the blatant lie from Blaine.

"Of course." He smiled, noticing the suit he had given him earlier was still draped over Blaine's arm. Kurt nodded towards the garment "You should really try that on so I can see if it will work or not."

Giving a small nod, Blaine turned around beginning to undress with his broad back towards Kurt.

Kurt grinned as he noticed the blush had reached the back of Blaine's neck. His couldn't believe that he had got such a reaction from a man, and his mind was reeling at the thought that maybe, just maybe, something could happen with this incredible man. But he refused let himself get his hopes up too high, in case his heart would get broken.

Just as his thoughts lingered on what could happen, Kurt noticed that Blaine was beginning to drop his own shirt from his shoulders. Stifling a gasp, he turned to look back at the racks of clothing, taking a deep breath to steady his rapidly beating heart. He dressed in his own attire, as fast as he could.

It was a few minutes of comfortable silence as the two men both dressed. Kurt only heard the occasional shift of clothing and the creak of the lose floorboard that Blaine was standing on, while he placed his vest over his chest, pushing the buttons through the small black holes.

Sliding his tie into place, Kurt turned to look at Blaine. "So, what do you think?" Blaine asked, fussing with the sleeves of the gray suit that he had on as he looked sheepishly at Kurt through his thick lashes.

Kurt felt like his heart had stopped in his chest. Blaine looked stunning in the gray suit. The fabric clung to his frame accenting his broad shoulders and tapered waist. And dear god, his ass! The material was snug against his round butt, yet Kurt could see no issue with the matter, until he remembered that the suit was intended for a client.

Making his way across the room to Blaine, Kurt had to remind himself that he wasn't to jump the man when he was near. He was a gentleman for god's sake. He should at least wine and dine him first, then make a move. Kurt shook his head slightly; forget Rolph rubbing off on Quinn, if anything Kurt got a large dose of the man's personality as well.

Clearing his head, Kurt stopped in front of Blaine, smiling at him as he began to straighten the lapels of the jacket. Kurt let his fingers linger brushing at invisible flakes of lint.

"I'll have to thank Joshua for letting you use his Bar Mitzvah suit." Kurt grinned, noticing how Blaine's eyes never wavered from his face as Kurt continued to run his hands across the fabric.

"Are you saying I'm short?" Blaine pouted leaning into Kurt's touch, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"No, he's just tall for his age." Kurt reassured him, hiding his smirk. "Now, turn around for me so I can see the back." Kurt instructed, as he moved his hand in a twirling motion.

Sighing dramatically, Blaine obliged, turning slowly in a circle to show Kurt the ensemble he had thrown him in.

Kurt couldn't help but let his gaze linger on the fabric that clung to Blaine's butt; it fit him like a second skin and Kurt found it extremely distracting. Suppressing a needy groan, Kurt fought to keep his raging hormones in check and looked anywhere else on the suit for any issue that may need a quick fix.

Noticing the pull of the fabric over Blaine's shoulders, Kurt steadied Blaine's movement with a simple touch.

"Can you move, comfortably?" Kurt asked, nodding to Blaine's shoulders.

Slowly moving his arms gingerly at first, Blaine worked his movements up to a swing smiling as he did so. "It's fine."

"That's good." Kurt said, moving his hand to his chin in thought.

"Something is missing..." He mumbled aloud, looking over Blaine's outfit.

Blaine stood stock still as Kurt moved slowly around him, humming to himself under his breath. Stopping abruptly in front of Blaine, Kurt looked to Blaine's neck noticing the collar was open.

It hit Kurt like a freight train when he saw the tan skin of Blaine's neck. The man needed a tie of some sort.

Quickly moving to his wardrobe, Kurt pulled open the doors and one of the inner drawers to reveal all of his ties. He smiled as his eyes lingered on the side containing his bowtie collection. Yes, one of these would do very nicely for Blaine. Bowties were all the rage at the moment, and Kurt knew that with Blaine's build there was no way that the man couldn't pull off the look.

Rummaging amongst the various patterns and colours of fabric for the perfect tie, Kurt's eyes kept getting drawn back to the simple, red cotton bowtie that sat in the front corner of the drawer. Giving up on the idea that there was something more suitable (which there wasn't) Kurt decided that this was the one.

Pulling out the red bowtie with a flourish, Kurt quickly went back to Blaine showing him the thin strip of cotton fabric. "Well, what do you think?" Kurt asked, his cheeks flushing with excitement.

Glancing between Kurt and the bowtie, Blaine shrugged. "I don't know..." He paused, looking at the fabric skeptically. "I've never wore a bowtie before-"

Kurt shook his head in disbelief, "You've never- how have you never-"

"I've never had an occasion to wear one." Blaine said, trying to justify himself.

"Well, you are going to be wearing one today and trust me you will look fabulous." Kurt assured Blaine.

"If you say so. I mean, you seem to be the expert." Blaine smiled gesturing to the mounds of clothes lying around the room.

Grinning, Kurt hummed. "True. So, do you know how to tie this?" He asked holding up the cloth in question.

Blaine shook his head, looking down sheepishly. "No, I've never worn one. Remember?"

"Of course." Kurt smiled, moving to close the gap between them.

Pausing slightly, Kurt looked down into Blaine's warm eyes. "Do you mind?"

"No, no, by all means." Blaine smiled. "Tie away."

Wasting no time, Kurt quickly popped the crisp, white collar of Blaine's shirt, and draped the fabric of the bowtie around Blaine's neck. Kurt's muscle memory took over after that, working expertly at maneuvering the cloth into a perfect bow, while he indulged himself at the feeling of Blaine's warm breath tickling his neck.

Kurt's senses were invaded by Blaine. The smell of his cologne was intoxicating, invading his nose and making his head spin. The slight touch of his fingers against Blaine's neck sent shivers down his spine. But then, there were Blaine's eyes. God, his eyes were a whole different story.

Glancing at Blaine through his lashes, Kurt's breath caught at what was there; adoration was flowing from Blaine. His hazel eyes were transfixed on Kurt's face following every slight movement of his mouth, and the gentle repetitive motion of his eyelids fluttering closed.

Blushing profusely, Kurt looked away from Blaine's eyes, continuing his job of fixing Blaine's tie. The logical part of Kurt's brain couldn't understand the look in Blaine's eyes; how without really knowing him, the man watched him with such reverence. Yet, a large part of him (the hopeless romantic part) understood and could relate. Blaine and his memory of Blaine held a special place in his heart but he couldn't even fathom the idea of not holding the man in high esteem.

Retreating from his confused thoughts, Kurt tweaked the bowtie one last time and righted Blaine's collar.

"I'm finished." He whispered, knowing he should move away from Blaine's warmth, yet his body refused to do so.

His hands rested on Blaine's chest as they continued to stare at each other in a comfortable silence.

Blaine's eyes continued to trace his face, taking in every curve and dip. Kurt had to push down the need to squirm under the intense stare of hazel eyes.

Kurt watched Blaine's face change, his eyes suddenly showed some sort of inner conflict while he stared at Kurt. But before Kurt could ask what was wrong, Blaine let out a breath and moved his left hand to trace his knuckles across Kurt's cheek.

Surprise coursed through Kurt as he felt the soft touch of skin to his cheek, but it soon turned to tranquility, something he hadn't felt in months. The feeling of calm that passed over him at Blaine's touch startled and relaxed him, it felt right like nothing had before.

Watching Blaine, Kurt saw how nervous the man was. He had taken a huge leap at making such an intimate gesture, and Kurt's heart soared at the gentle movement of his thumb. But Blaine looked like he would bolt if Kurt said or did the wrong thing. Ever so cautiously, he leaned into the touch, watching Blaine for any sign that this may be too much.

Blaine's eyes widened at the movement, making Kurt panic. Before Kurt could move to apologize, a simple smile grew on Blaine's face and his eyes shone with happiness.

Kurt eyes fluttered closed as he moved further into Blaine's touch, reveling in the feeling of warmth on his cheek. Letting out a satisfied sigh, Kurt opened his eyes to take in Blaine, who looked awed by Kurt. He looked so happy and surprised that he was able to touch Kurt, and truthfully Kurt felt the same. After all this time thinking and imagining each other, here they were standing in Kurt's bedroom only inches from each other. It was as if all of Kurt's hopes and dreams had come true.

He wanted this to be more than a friendly visit from an 'old friend'; he prayed that Blaine's feelings matched his own. And the only way that Kurt could think of that wouldn't take forever was to stop being so scared of being hurt and take a chance.

Kurt was determined so he leaned in slightly watching Blaine and giving the man a chance to retreat if he wished. But instead Blaine leaned in closer, moving his hand to grasp the back of Kurt's neck as his hazel eyes watched Kurt's lips.

Soothed by Blaine's movements, Kurt closed his eyes in anticipation, his heart beating a mile a minute, while his mind was so overwhelmed that it seemed to be short circuiting.

He could feel Blaine's soft breathing as their lips were a hairsbreadth away, and he braced himself for the onslaught of emotions.

But it never came.

The sound of a door banging open startled Blaine, his eyes as wide as saucers and his breathing erratic. Kurt was surprised that the man didn't jump out of his skin, or maybe hide underneath the bed at how terrified he looked.

Kurt, on the other hand, was livid as he saw a freshly pressed and ready to go Quinn standing sheepishly at his open door. Her hair piled on top of her head and her blue chiffon dress draped elegantly on her body. She looked beautiful, but Kurt was seeing too much red to say so.

"_Do you not know how to knock?"_ Kurt asked through clenched teeth.

Quinn gave a quick apologetic smile before it turned into a smirk. _"I didn't think you would actually take my advice." _

"_I didn't."_ Kurt glowered, hoping Quinn could feel his anger towards her. _"Now, what do you want?" _

"_I was just going to see if you boys were ready, but obviously you need a bit more time."_ She winked. _"So, I will just head towards the church myself. I'm sure I can find a nice man to help me find my way."_

Kurt's anger subsided slightly, as he worried about her wondering the streets on her own. He was about to say so when she waved him off. _"I am more than capable of taking care of myself." _She assured him. _"Now I'll leave you to get acquainted with the British man's mouth."_

She smiled wickedly as she threw a small wave in a mortified Blaine's direction. "À bientôt, mes beaux." She called in fluent French, as she made her way down the stairs.

Glaring at her retreating form for a few moments, Kurt knew that if he could kill anyone right now, it would be Quinn Fabray.


	12. Chapter 11

Well, hello strangers! I know we are horrible and we should go die in a hole for leaving this for so long but to make up for it, this chapter is especially long. Now, I know we have mentioned this a few times but we are completely serious when we say that if you nag us we will do things, like update faster. And if you give us some ideas they may even pop up in the story.

Also PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, review! It lets us know if you guys are enjoying this or if we are just doing this all for our own evil enjoyment. But really, it means the world to us when we hear what you have to say, and it encourages us to write more!

* * *

**IMPORTANT**

**From here on out anything in italics is spoken in German and anything in regular text is spoken in English. It is so much easier than us trying to translate.**

* * *

**February 22nd, 1919 - Düsseldorf, Germany**

**Blaine **

Blaine jerked his face up, staring at the empty doorway, his eyebrows rising and disappearing under the dark fringe of his curls. He could hear Quinn's sharp foot falls and musical laughter as she made her way down the stairs and into the living room.

Blaine stood there lamely, stunned at this turn of events. He had clearly heard and understood Quinn having learned rudimentary French from some of the soldiers with too much time on their hands and not enough cigarettes. Suddenly, he got the strangest feeling that everything was going to change now that he had some way to communicate with the blonde. He would be lying if he said, based solely on how she made Kurt act, it didn't make him uneasy. This could be the beginning of an association detrimental to his health.

Turning his thoughts back to Kurt, Blaine couldn't help but be both curious and annoyed at just what Quinn had said to make the other man so angry. Not for the first time, he wished that he had stopped and thought this plan through; maybe actually taught himself something other than those appalling curses that had been spit out by restrained prisoners/patients. Maybe then he wouldn't feel so useless and worried that he was making things unnecessary difficult for Kurt.

Still standing far too close to Kurt, Blaine could practically see the heavy waves of annoyance that seemed to roll off Kurt's tensed shoulders as he curled and uncurled his long thin fingers, as if trying to stop himself from wrapping them around someone's throat. Blaine stayed quiet but slowly tried to inch away, fearful that Kurt might turn on him. Not that he could really blame the German man. If Quinn hadn't barged in Blaine was sure that he would have kissed Kurt forcefully and fully on the mouth like he had wanted to since that night in the shell hole. A hot flush rushed up the back of Blaine's neck as he thought of all the things he had wanted to do to Kurt since that night; of all the nights since that he'd woken up sweaty with Kurt's name on his lips and his sheets soaked in cum.

"I'm so sorry." Kurt was still fuming, if that squinty eyed glare he was throwing at the open door was anything to go by. He had, however, stopped twitching. "I swear, for a nurse, she has the most abysmal bedside manner."

Blaine couldn't help but snicker, now at a safe distance, over how impossibly endearing an irate Kurt was. Which earned him a tilted side look and a small quirk of the lips and for a moment, Blaine felt himself to be the luckiest man in the world to be able to see this side of the beautiful German.

"Yeah, I bet she's a real dragon. You can see it in her eyes." Kurt was full out grinning, a small bubble of laughter escaping as he hobbled over to the tall dresser. Sitting on top was a small crystal dish with a pretty ceramic top that Kurt pulled off.

"What can I say? Quinn… is Quinn." He started, riffling through the bowl. From what Blaine could see inside sat small, shiny bobbles, no bigger than a fingernail which Kurt pulled out and twirled between his thumb and forefinger, the light catching and reflecting on the ceiling.

"She's like a lynx." Kurt started, turning his head to see Blaine standing there looking completely baffled. "It's like a large, wild cat with tuffs on its ears." Blaine nodded slowly, not really understanding but Kurt didn't seem to notice or care as he launched into his ramblings, pulling out a glimmering bob before shaking his head and delicately placing it back.

"Well in the zoo, they're these beautiful creatures. Graceful and sedated, just soaking in all the attention but in the wild they're damn terrifying. Like claw your face off and eat your intestines scary."

There was a pause where Kurt continued sorting through the bobbles in the bowl and Blaine took the opportunity to flick his eyes across the room before Kurt let out a gasp, jumping subtlety while holding out his hand triumphantly.

"Yes, I think these will make that bowtie pop." He turned back, grinning widely, as if he didn't just scare the shit out of Blaine.

"Yeah, sure…What are they?" Blaine asked. In response, Kurt paused his limping and shot Blaine a look what could only be described as judgmental and Blaine couldn't but help flush darkly, feeling very dense.

"They're cufflinks." He said as if it was something that regularly came up in everyday conversation. "Here. Give me your wrists."

Blaine gratefully placed his right arm in Kurt's empty hand where the other man went about, diligently fastening the open cuff deftly with nimble fingers only pausing to stare expectantly, curling his fingers urging Blaine to give him the next arm.

"You're really good at this." Blaine started lamely, feeling like a small child as Kurt tugged the dark gray sleeves of the borrowed jacket. Kurt just smiled, turning back to reach for the ones he left out for himself on the bureau's top. The links that decorated Blaine's crisp cuffs were a brilliant shade of platinum with a sizable garnet stone embedded in the center. They were polished and looked more expensive than anything floating around in his own wrinkled canvas bag.

"Is it alright if I wear these?" He asked. Kurt was just finishing clipping his last one together, his head popping up at Blaine's question. He seemed to look deeply disturbed, even more so when he watched Blaine glance back down at his left arm, one of his fingers brushing against the glossy top of the cufflink.

"Of course it is Blaine." He reached out clasping at the lapels of Blaine's jacket, tugging them and drawing the Brit's attention back onto himself. "Don't worry about it. Please."

Blaine's lips twitched, his hazel eyes focused intently on Kurt's mouth but Kurt pulled back, reluctantly, so that he could pull the freshly pressed coat off the bed and slip it on. "W-we should hurry. If I'm late Lena will throw a fit."

Blaine's eyes didn't leave Kurt's face but he did nod, his right hand reaching up to rub at his stubbly jaw. "Yeah. I'm getting the feeling that is the last thing anyone would want." He joked.

Kurt smiled, turning around and fixing the sleeves and the thin lapels of his jacket while Blaine reached out to smooth the long creases running the length of his shoulders. Blaine couldn't help but give a closed-mouth smirk at the feeling of that slight intake of breath and jump of Kurt's muscles under his warm hands.

"W-we should go." Kurt stuttered, while a dark blush rose up the back of his neck. Blaine continued to grin, holding his arm out to the other man, watching with bright eyes as Kurt gave it a suspicious look before reaching out and lightly grasping it.

"If you just keep holding my hand, I'll get you there before anyone has to die." Kurt joked.

When Blaine started to lead them from the room and towards the stairs, being diligent as to not rush the limping man, Kurt relaxed. His hand loosened and he allowed it to slide up just an inch, towards Blaine's elbow. Blaine couldn't help but smile secretly at the image of them in the large oval mirror hang along the adjacent wall.

* * *

As Kurt had mentioned previously the hall really wasn't that far away from the Hummel residence, a quick fifteen minute walk along cleared, stone sidewalks with a brisk February chill brushing at their backs. By now the sun had started to set and there was very little traffic to block their way.

The hall itself was an attractive building, obviously a little older than some of the small shops and homes situated around it. It sat in the corner lot of the street, the large doors facing out to the crosswalk where small clusters of well-dressed couples darted across, laughing and smiling as they made their ways up the large stone stairs and into the building. Some paused long enough to give Kurt a smile and a wave which the man returned in a much more subdued fashion. Blaine walked aimlessly alongside Kurt; his hazel eye's darting everywhere while his cheeks, already reddened by the cold, darkened when he extended his arm to help Kurt up the daunting stairs.

"As much as it's nice to know that chivalry isn't dead, I am a grown man so I think I can take on a set of stairs." Kurt was still smiling as the words left his mouth, making it clear that he wasn't exactly chastising Blaine but rather just trying to get across that he wasn't an invalid.

Blaine groaned loudly, running his hand down his red face before stopping to rub at the thick scruff stretching across his jaw.

"Please tell me I haven't been coddling you." He looked up at Kurt through his thick eyelashes clearly embarrassed by his actions. He hadn't wanted to give Kurt the idea that he thought the German man was as helpless as a little fawn.

"Oh yeah, like a mother duck." The German joked. Blaine groaned again and followed Kurt up the stairs and through the large doorway.

The inside foyer was warm and welcoming. There was very little decoration in the foyer but Blaine could see thin wisps of tulle connecting rows for white chairs through the open doors of the main hall. The front room seemed to be the designated waiting area were guests milled around, sitting on long wooden benches, talking and complimenting each other on their finery and Blaine instantly was thankful for the borrowed suit.

Both men stopped briefly to the side of the large doors, where there was a coatroom, to help each other out of their winter jackets. If Blaine's hands lingered on Kurt's shoulder a little longer then appropriate neither said anything about it.

"Well I think I should go check on the bride, make sure she hasn't seriously harmed or maimed anyone yet." He handed their coats over to the small, freckled boy standing by the coatroom door before taking off towards the hallway that continued down the side of the main ballroom. Blaine looked around, already feeling like an intruder as he stood there detached, eyeing everyone flitting about speaking excitedly in German. Blaine's eyes flitted back to the hallway where Kurt had reappeared waving with a hand for him to follow. Blaine couldn't help but heave a sigh of relief and quickly march over.

"No running off or getting lost!" Kurt snapped, poking Blaine in the chest with every word just to make his point but it only made Blaine smile.

"Look who's the mother duck now."

Kurt rolled his eyes, a small grin play on his lips as he turned back to the door and knocked twice. Receiving a shrill response he looked back over his shoulder at Blaine with a very unimpressed expression.

"Brace yourself." Kurt murmured. Blaine cocked an eyebrow looking incredulously at the man in front of him.

"Kurt, you do remember I served, right? Nothing could be more terrifying then any of that." Kurt only shook his head, calling out something in German before pushing the door open, his left arm reaching back to snag Blaine's sleeve pulling him along behind.

"_And where have you been!? You're late and the wedding is about to start! "_

The room was very plain, just a side area with a couple of outdated chairs and a low coffee table, but in one corner a little salon had been set up with a white chair and a full length mirror. Nothing really remarkable except for the fuming woman standing right in the centre.

Both men paused in the doorway looking sheepish for a moment before Kurt moved in closer, wrapping his long, thin arms around the woman who huffed loudly and then seemed to sink into what Blaine could only believe was one of the best hugs in all of history.

"_Oh, calm down, Lena. I'm here now and we still have half an hour."_ Kurt patted the back of who Blaine assumed was his sister. Her dress was a beautiful garment made of ivory silk and daring lines of ruffled lace with a wide silk brocade belt that tied into a decently sized train. It contrasted perfectly with the rich, dark colour of her hair.

"_But what if something had happened!?" _She cried, looking about ready to hyperventilate. Kurt sighed again finally letting go enough that he could hold her out at arm's length and stare pointedly in her eyes.

"_Everything is going to be fine!" _

Blaine stood awkwardly by the door, eyes darting to the windows, while his fingers twitched for something to do even though he refused to fiddle with the shiny cufflinks Kurt had lent him. This seemed like a very close family moment and he couldn't help but feel like an intruder, but still happy that Kurt hadn't left him out there to fend for himself.

Voices drifted into the room, loud and exultant as if someone had already dipped into the alcohol stash Kurt had promised would be here. He reached out and shut the door, realizing that he had forgotten to in his discomfort of being the odd man out, and the sound seemed to draw the attention of the two siblings.

Kurt blinked owlishly, almost surprised that Blaine was still standing there but his expression softened into an easy smile which Blaine returned. Blaine stood like an uncomfortable statue in a suit that wasn't his and was just a little too tight in some places with an expression so uneasy it looked like Kurt felt bad for him. At this point, Lena seemed to finally take notice of Blaine's presence. Blaine had never seen anyone's eyes go that wide without popping out of their skull.

"_WHAT IS THAT!" _The screech echoed around the room making the mirror and a few makeup brushes rattle. Surprisingly no one came rushing in to see if someone had died, but Blaine figured that either this was a commonplace happening or they were all just too scared to come closer. Lena had been obviously stressed up to this point but still had some semblance of control. That seemed to rush out the window as she eyed Blaine with an appearance of someone who had just eaten something fowl.

Kurt turned on his sister. "_Lena, stop that!" _He hissed._ "He's a guest and you are being extremely rude!"_

"_I can't believe you brought a homeless person to my wedding. What am I supposed to tell everyone about this?" _She waved out a hand in Blaine's direction, turning only once to glance at the other man and scrunch her face. Kurt made this small strangled growl in the base of his throat that automatically made Blaine's gut tighten and his mind made a brief detour to what other noises could be drawn from that pretty mouth.

"_Lena." _Kurt warned his voice dangerously low, and Blaine quickly wished that Kurt would stop as it risked making this encounter even more uncomfortable. However, Lena sighed loudly and stomped a foot signalling her defeat.

"_Fine. He can stay, but if he's going to be in my wedding you have got to do something about that hair." _Kurt nodded and turned his head to give Blaine a small reassuring grin. Blaine tried to return it with an easy one of his own but it ended looking strained and tight as he shifted nervously from foot to foot. He knew there wasn't much Kurt could do for him without drawing attention to their strange situation. Instead Kurt reached out, fingers skimming the lace sleeve of the wedding dress as he went about adjusting the neckline and train.

"_Couldn't you have least shaved him?"_ Even though Lena didn't look overly ecstatic about the turn of events her voice was light, almost joking as nodded in Blaine's direction. Kurt masked his chuckle with a cough.

A small knock at the door cut off Kurt's answer, and Blaine, who had been feeling completely useless, reached over and opened the door. Standing there in a pretty dress was a petite girl with a smile on her face, which only grew when a half second later a little she launched herself across the room and into Kurt's arms.

"_Bruder!"_ She laughed, pulling back to show him that infectious smile.

"_Anna, shouldn't you be guarding the hallway, making sure Noah doesn't sneak a peek at his bride before the ceremony?" _Kurt asked, smiling widely as he smoothed down the top of the girl's wavy, auburn hair. She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion while pouting.

"_That got boring. All they're doing is drinking and stealing snacks from the kitchen. Besides they told me you were here and I was sure you would want to see my dress."_ Anna hopped back a few steps so that she could give him a decent spin; the skirt of her dress flew out around her in a circle wider than the radius of her thin arms. Her light hearted giggling covered up the hissing noises coming from the seriously angry looking bride.

"_What do you mean drinking!?" _She snapped. "_We are getting married in forty-five minutes!"_

Kurt looked about ready to pull his hair out and for the most part, Blaine could sympathise. No matter how cool and distant the Anderson family could be towards each other they were still a family, and no one drives you crazier than family.

"_Hey, who's that?"_ Anna moved away from her two older siblings and closer to where Blaine was standing next to the half open door. She seemed to be carefully scrutinizing the older man; it was a little unnerving for Blaine, to say the least.

Kurt jumped to intervene. Turning away from a fuming bride, he smiled weakly at Blaine before reaching down to grasp his younger sister's shoulders, pulling her back against himself. "_This is my friend, Blaine. He's just visiting so be nice, okay?"_

Anna just looked up at her brother and gave him another wide smile before nodding. Kurt sighed, letting Anna go and turning to Lena to fuss at the sleeves of her dress.

"_Hallo."_

Anna raised her hand in a small wave as she stood there looking up at Blaine, who though considerable shorter than most of the men in her life, still towered over her. A small, sweet grin crossed Blaine's face as he raised his own hand to give her a small wave of his own.

Blaine had always been the youngest in the Anderson Clan. He was their precious baby boy, Cooper had always joked. His father would chime in, saying how constantly spoiled and indulged he was by their mother, barely even a man. But a few years at war had quickly changed that. He had always wanted a younger sibling growing up, someone he could place the blame on for once, but Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, who had never really been cut out for parenthood, had decided on a maximum of two children. Still, looking down at the darling look on little Anna's face, the way she seemed to light up when Blaine returned her greeting, he wished more than anything that she had been his little sister.

"_Well, it looks like we're almost ready. Anna, go tell dad that we should be starting soon." _Kurt paused to look pointedly at Lena._ "I'll go look in on Noah and make sure that things aren't getting out of hand."_

Kurt shooed Anna out of the room before grabbing Blaine's arm and moving them out the door and down the hallway further from the main entrance.

"You know the whole 'I've been to war and I don't think your sister is going to scare me' thing?"

Kurt nodded, a smug smile crossing his lips as he pulled Blaine along the hallway.

"I stand corrected."

They marched their way into a standard, fairly clean men's washroom, where Blaine caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

"Oh sweet lord. Is that what I've looked like this entire time?" The words came out high and slightly cracked as Blaine ran over to the mirror and placed his hands on his head. His dark hair was a mess of puffy curls standing out at odd angles and deciding to just do their own thing across his head.

"Is this what I looked like getting off the train?" Blaine asked, sure that he really didn't want to hear the answer. Then again it would explain a lot, like why on the last leg of his trip no one would sit next to him or even make eye contact. He thought it was because he was British, but no it was because he looked like a wild vagabond.

"It's not that bad." Kurt murmured, raising a hand to pet some of the loose curls springing out between Blaine's fingers.

"Not that bad! I can't believe you actually let me come home with you. I look like an escaped crazy person!" Blaine dragged his hands back down his head, holding the back of his neck and sighing at the sad picture he made in mirror.

"Really, it's not that bad. It's actually…kind of adorable."

Blaine looked away from his hair and met Kurt's eyes in the mirror. There was a long moment where they held each other's gaze before Kurt blushed and looks down to his wrists where his fingers fiddle with his cuffs. And that little slip up just started making things very uncomfortable.

"Are you kidding me? No wonder your sister freaked out." Blaine continued as if he hadn't even heard Kurt or could see that the other man looked about ready to faint from how red his face was.

"Damn. I just…wanted to make a good impression for them." He whimpered miserably.

"Well, I'm sure your reputation can still be salvaged. I mean, you're attractive enough that if we just fix your hair I'm sure no one will even remember." Kurt reached into his pocket pulling out a small jar of petroleum jelly.

"Except you!" He pointed out, reaching out for the tiny container of product but Kurt beat him to the punch and started to unscrew the cap, lying in on the counter.

"Well, yeah. Except me." Kurt smiled, dipping three fingers into the goo. Blaine sighed again and moved just that little bit closer when he realized that the other man had no intention of giving up the jelly, letting Kurt run his gooey fingers through the tangle of curls. It had been a very long time since anyone had done this for him. He had been only thirteen when Cooper sat him down and taught him the finer points of male grooming. But Kurt's hands were soft and moved with deft precision, massaging the gel back and forcing the curls down.

"I… I don't know how you style it." Kurt was blushing, his fingers still twisted in the mass.

"That's okay. I can take over from here." Blaine said, smiling up awkwardly at Kurt, wishing that he could just close the distance but, to Blaine's utter disappointment, Kurt pulled back.

* * *

**Kurt**

Kurt was relieved that Lena had asked him earlier in the day to confiscate the petroleum jelly from Noah and the other men, for two reasons. One, the men had a tendency to over use the product much to Kurt's disgust. Some of the men had an unhealthy relationship with it, especially Bryan Ryan, and Lena and Kurt were in complete agreement that the men should be cut off from applying any extra during the day. Secondly, having confiscated the jelly meant that he had some handy to use on Blaine's head.

He found the curls to be endearing, and he hated that he had to contain them in the slick helmet that was now Blaine's hair, but he didn't want to face the wrath of his sister if he didn't do as he was asked.

Quickly washing his hands of the remaining petroleum jelly on his fingers, he watched Blaine from the corner of his eyes. The man was turning his head this way and that looking at himself in the mirror, placing some lose strands in the right places.

Blaine seemed focused on fixing his hair into its usual style, which Kurt realized, he hadn't had the pleasure of seeing yet, since the last time he had seen him his head was under a helmet.

Jerking his gaze away from the man beside him, Kurt turned to look at his reflection in the mirror. He still looked put together; his hair was all in place and perfectly coiffed, his shirt was still ironed, his tie was centered and the knot was tied with a precise hand.

Honestly, he looked fantastic and it bothered him. Kurt wanted a distraction, anything really to keep his wondering eyes away from Blaine for a few moments so he could gather his wits. But oh no, Kurt had to look handsome in his three piece suit, with not a god damn thing to distract him from the gorgeous man standing beside him in a dark grey suit and burgundy bowtie.

So he just busied himself with moving his tie around, pretending that he was fixing his appearance when really, he was ready to crawl out of his skin and try to find some sort of relief for the awkward tension that was radiating from both of them.

A rap on the bathroom door startled Blaine and he knocked the jar of petroleum jelly off of the counter. Kurt smiled and turned his attention away from Blaine as a man with horribly bushy hair (that could truly rival a caveman) peaked around the door.

Rolling his eyes, Kurt turned his attention back to the mirror to 'straighten' his tie. _"What do you need, Jacob?" _He asked, with annoyance dripping from his voice.

Kurt watched in the mirror as Jacob moved further into the room, noticing how he was staring at Blaine interestedly. Blaine leaned down and retrieved the dropped petroleum jelly before leaning against the counter to size up Jacob. It was obvious that Blaine didn't like what he was seeing.

"_I was looking for you._" Jacob said slowly as if he was talking to a small child that didn't understand.

Trying to contain the years of anger and irritation with the other man, Kurt turned his full attention on Jacob. "_Alright then, you were looking for me. So, what do you want?_" He replied impatiently. "_And if you are here to get the petroleum jelly from me for the others you can tell Bryan that if even thinks about adding a drop of any gel substance to his hair I will light his precious hair on fire_."

"_I'm not here for that._" Jacob snapped, giving Kurt the most pitiful glare he had ever seen. Kurt was sure a baby could do better. "_I was sent to find you, they're starting soon._"

"_Oh. Well, thank you, Jacob._" Kurt sent the man a cold smile, as he waited for him to leave, but Jacob didn't move. Instead he stared at Blaine, who returned his stare with cold glare of his own.

After a few minutes of intense staring, Jacob nodded towards Blaine. "_Who's he?_"

Kurt glared at Jacob for a moment. He could feel Blaine tense beside him and knew that at Kurt's notice, Blaine would only be too happy to rip Jacob's throat out.

"_Not that it's any of your business, but he's a war buddy of mine._" Kurt finally spat, flinching at the word buddy.

"_Whatever you say, twinkle toes._" Jacob smirked, turning on his heel and leaving.

Kurt slumped back against the counter releasing a breath he wasn't aware he was holding as he glared at the closed door. "Twinkle toes?" He muttered, shaking his head. "That's a new one."

Blaine looked at Kurt with concern written all over his face. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Kurt whispered, giving Blaine a small smile. "It's just been such a long time since I have had to put up with the likes of him. I forgot how much he annoyed me."

Blaine nodded. "So, who was he?"

"Jacob. An old classmate."

"Obviously not a good classmate." Blaine chuckled, his eyes searching Kurt for any hints.

"No, we never got along- he was- well, it really doesn't matter who he is." Kurt smiled at Blaine quickly, trying to change the subject. "We need to get going, though. The wedding is going to start soon."

Blaine pushed himself off of the counter, glancing quickly to the mirror to see how his hair was doing before flashing a bright smile to Kurt. "Well," He said, holding his arm out. "Shall we?"

Grabbing his cane, Kurt tried to beat down the blush that was creeping onto his cheeks, smiling as he linked his arm through Blaine's. "Of course."

"You should maybe lead though. I have no clue where we're going."

Chuckling, Kurt tugged on Blaine's arm. "Let's go mister. I have a wedding to keep from falling apart."

* * *

The walk to the hall didn't go quite as smoothly as Kurt would have liked. He and Blaine were continually stopped by guests milling about waiting to be ushered into the main hall for the ceremony.

Kurt had been caught by his great aunt, Elsa, who was smothering him with hugs and kisses, and Blaine was not helping at all with getting him out of this situation.

Oh no, the charming man was all smiles as he watched Elsa pinch Kurt's cheeks and go on and on about how Kurt was such a brave young man. However, to Blaine's credit, whenever Elsa would turn to him to speak he would smile charmingly and nod at all of the appropriate times, but he was no help in escaping.

"_Aunt Elsa-_" Kurt tried to interrupt for the umpteenth time to make an escape, but he was having no luck.

"_-I was so worried when we had lost contact with you._" She turned to look at Blaine, hoping to fill him in on the events. "_He was lost, well he was in the hospital, but we didn't have contact with him for days-_"

Blaine smiled, looking intrigued even though he had no clue what Kurt's aunt was rambling about. For all Kurt knew Blaine could be thinking she was talking about bats riding bicycles, or about an embarrassing rash Kurt had as a child. To Blaine's credit, he didn't let it show how uncomfortable this was likely making him. Kurt tried once again to pull Blaine and himself away but Elsa had a surprisingly strong grip on Kurt's arm, especially considering her age.

Aunt Elsa was a petite woman of seventy-eight, with long peppered hair that was put up in a bun with a large navy hat pinned onto her head. She was spry for her age; it was one of the things Kurt loved most about her, other than her obvious love for fashion. She was always in the middle of everything, and was known as the family gossip; if you wanted information on anyone she was the woman to go to. But, at this moment, Kurt didn't need to know his own life story.

Rolling his eyes Kurt sent Blaine a pleading look, which the man had the gall to just return with a slight wink. He was enjoying this far too much, especially for a man that didn't understand a word coming at him.

"_Kurt!_" A familiar voiced called. Turning towards the voice, Kurt caught a glimpse of Quinn's blonde hair.

"_I've been looking for you._" She smiled as she made her way towards them, and Elsa gave Quinn an appreciative glance before turning back to Kurt.

"_And who is this beautiful girl?_" Elsa asked, winking at Kurt.

"_Aunt Elsa._" Kurt blushed, giving her a look. "_You know-_"

"_Yes, I know._" She scolded, hitting his arm for emphasis. "_Can't an old woman make an observation?_"

Kurt blushed harder, tightening his hold on his cane in embarrassment. While Quinn stifled a laugh with her hand and Blaine gave a quizzical look, a smile still plastered on his face.

"_Quinn- This is Quinn._" Kurt mumbled, as Quinn shook Elsa's hand. "_She was the nurse that took care of me in the hospital._"

"_Oh, well, bless you my dear for taking such good care of our Kurtie._" Elsa praised, giving Quinn a beautiful smile.

"_It was my pleasure, but I can't take all the credit._" Quinn smiled, glancing in Blaine's direction.

Elsa's eyebrow rose, and Kurt saw the wheels turning in her head as she looked between the three young people standing in front of her. Kurt prayed to anything that would listen that she didn't figure out Quinn's meaning, but when she grinned broadly at Quinn with that twinkle in her eye, Kurt knew she had figured something out.

She turned to a silent Blaine a broad smile on her lips. "_So, tell me about yourself, young man._"

Blaine just stared at Elsa for a moment then turned to Kurt nervously.

"Blaine doesn't speak German_._" Kurt supplied for Blaine giving the man a reassuring smile while he fought in vain to keep his blush down from the intense stare his aunt was giving him.

"Blaine, this is my great aunt, Elsa." Kurt introduced, noticing Blaine relax a bit from the change in language.

Blaine beamed, taking Elsa's hand. "A pleasure." Blaine said, before placing a quick kiss on her wrinkled knuckles.

Kurt was sure that he saw Elsa's eyes pop out of her head, as a dreamy look crossed her face, but it fell quickly when Blaine let go of her fingers.

"_Oh, you need to keep this one, Kurtie._" She said, fanning herself and clutching at her chest. "_He's a charmer_."

Quinn giggled. "_I told him the same thing._"

"_A woman's intuition, it seems._" Elsa grinned at Quinn, giving her a small wink.

Elsa looked over at a fascinated Blaine. "So, dear boy, why didn't you mention that you don't understand German?"

Blaine gaped at Elsa, his air of charm vanishing in an instant. "I didn't-" He floundered, looking briefly at Kurt for some aid. "I wasn't-"

"Oh, calm down, my dear boy." She grinned. "Now, Kurt, don't you have somewhere to be?" She asked pointedly.

"Well, yes, but I was going to bring Blaine to his seat-"

Elsa smiled wolfishly, an expression that Kurt had seen on many occasions in his life and he knew she was up to something. "Oh, don't worry your sweet head, Kurtie. Quinn and I will keep him safe."

Kurt blanched. Elsa had some sort of maniacal plan and Kurt was not going to leave Blaine to his impending slaughter. "As wonderful as that would be, I should really say with him."

"Stop being such a worry wart." Elsa wined.

"I have every right to worry!" Kurt exclaimed, getting a subdued look of terror from Blaine. "I know you too well, Aunt Elsa. I know you are going to give him the third degree and I would much rather you do that when I am present." Kurt grinned. "So that I can hear all he has to say as well."

Blaine smiled slightly at Kurt and rubbed at the back of his neck. "I promise not to tell any good stories without you present."

Kurt was sure his knees would have given out if he wasn't using his cane to keep himself upright. Blaine could get away with anything by just flashing that smile at Kurt, and Kurt was sure he would give Blaine a puppy or something just as sickeningly cute if he had asked.

Fighting to keep himself from swooning, Kurt looked over to his aunt and saw that her whole demeanor had changed from their interaction. Her lips were pressed into a fine line, her hands were pressed tightly together and a corner of her mouth was curling up into a smile. He knew this woman was going to milk this for all it was worth and, likely, make Kurt miserable in the process.

"You are a horrible boy, Kurt Hummel." Elsa gasped as she regained her composure, glaring at Kurt. "Honestly, you are so coy."

"I learned from the best." Kurt mumbled, earning him a slap on his arm. He glanced towards the clock on the wall and continued. "Excuse me, but I really need to head back to Lena." He smiled apologetically. "Otherwise, my sister may kill me for delaying the wedding."

Kurt put a gentle hand on Elsa's shoulder. "Do you mind taking care of them for me?" Kurt asked giving his Aunt a charming smile, and his best puppy dog eyes.

Swatting at him, she let out a shrill laugh that caused everyone in the room to turn and stare at her. "You are so lucky you are my favorite!" She smiled, pushing him away and trying to hold in her laugh again. "Now get going before I change my mind."

Kurt placed a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you." He whispered, giving her an impish smile. "Behave yourself now, Aunt Elsa."

Elsa looked appalled at the notion. **"**I would never!" She exclaimed looking to the others reassuringly. "You, my dears, are in good hands. Now, get going Kurtie, before I make you."

Nodding, Kurt turned on his heel to make his way back to Lena's secluded dressing room.

* * *

Lena stood in front of the mirror turning her body back and forth to get a better look at the back of her dress.

"_Lena, stop it! I'm going to stab you with a needle._" Kurt scolded, through the pins he had gently sitting between his lips, as he fixed the hem that Lena had ripped in her anxious pacing while Kurt was gone.

"_I am so nervous._" Lena mumbled, wringing her hands. "_Oh god, I'm getting married._"

Kurt hummed tying off the thread and smoothing down the fabric of the dress. He looked up at his sister from his spot on the ground. She looked beautiful in her gown of silk and lace with her hair pilled on her head. She was fussing with a stray lock of hair, mumbling under her breath and obviously working herself up more than was necessary.

"_Give me a hand._" Kurt said gently breaking Lena from her trance.

She smiled weakly, extending her hand for Kurt to take to help him struggle to his feet.

"_Thanks._" Kurt smiled, brushing at the dust on his slacks, glancing over to the lace veil across the room.

Lena sighed, drawing Kurt's eyes back to his frantic sister who was twisting the stray lock on her finger.

Limping over to the chair where the veil was waiting, Kurt carefully lifted the piece and ran the soft lace through his fingers. He looked back to where Lena was waiting in front of the mirror. Their eyes met in the reflection and they both smiled as Kurt moved back to Lena's side with the veil still firmly in his grasp.

"_You ready for this?_" Kurt asked quietly, his voice barely a whisper, tears prickling at the backs of his eyes.

Lena nodded, giving him a watery smile in return.

Kurt looked at the fabric in his hands. "_This was mom's._" He whispered, looking into Lena's hazel eyes. Holding back his emotions, Kurt gracefully draped the fabric over Lena's shoulders, securing the lace in Lena's hair with some pins.

"_Well?_" Lena asked, a look of worry showing on her face.

Kurt rearranged some of the lace, smiling as he perfected her ensemble. "_You look stunning._"

Lena sighed, looking at Kurt with her big doe eyes. "_God, I am so scared._"

Kurt felt his protective instincts for his little sister kick in. "_Oh, sweetie._" Kurt cooed, pulling her into a hug and being careful to not wrinkle the silk of her dress. "_I have the feeling everyone feels this way when they get married... I think it is in the job description._" Lena let out a soft laugh at Kurt's quip. "_Honestly, if it was me I would be lying on the floor in the fetal position._"

Lena stiffed a laugh into Kurt's lapel, smacking his arm lightly. "_Stop it. You're making my makeup run._"

Chuckling, Kurt held Lena back looking over her face for any issue with the makeup. "_Well it's true._" He said, wiping at the small smudge of liner under her left eye. "_You know how I am with stress._"

She hummed in agreement. "Y_eah, you really are horrible with dealing with stress._" She laughed turning in Kurt's embrace to look in the mirror. "_Do you remember when I got my first period?_"

"_Oh god, don't remind me._" Kurt shuddered. "_I did research for you._"

Lena laughed, "_You were so stressed. You went running around to find someone to help us because Dad was in the shop, and we didn't want to disturb him._"

"_God, I completely embarrassed myself in front of Mrs. Braun for you._" Kurt shook his head at the memory. "_I was so scared to tell her what was happening to you, so I said it was me that was having..._" he paused looking for the right word. _"Issues, but instead I made myself look like I was diseased. She was about to drag me to the hospital before I told her it you bleeding. I got a scolding for scaring her so._"

"_You didn't?_" Lena asked, fighting back a gale of laughter.

"_Oh, I did. I don't think she has ever looked at me the same again._" Kurt chuckled.

"_Well, I'm sure I was more horrified then you when I got a through talking with Noah's mother afterward._"

Kurt smirked. "_Oh, no, I think Dad was the one that may have been most horrified when Mrs. Braun told him._"

"_Oh, I remember that! He was so red!_" Lena giggled. "_Poor Dad._"

"_What did I do?_" Burt asked as he walked into the room, his eyes immediately drawn to Lena in her dress.

"_Jesus, Dad!_" Kurt scolded holding a hand to his rapidly beating heart. "_Knock, will you_?"

Burt chuckled. "_I did but I'm sure you couldn't hear me over the cackling in this room. It sounded like a bunch of witches were brewing in here._"

Lena was taken aback. "_I do not cackle!_" She protested, putting one hand on her hip and gesturing to Kurt with the other. "_Kurt on the other hand-_"

"_Oh, please,_" Kurt said haughtily, scowling at Lena. Glancing around Burt, Kurt looked for his youngest sister whom was nowhere to be seen. "_Where's Anna?_" Kurt asked his father.

"_She should be here soon; Elsa caught her in the hallway._" Burt explained, his smile becoming a bit more anxious as he looked from Lena to Kurt. "_So, I saw a young man with Elsa...He looks kind of like a well-dressed homeless man._"

Kurt froze at the mention of Blaine, chancing a quick look at Lena for some backup.

"_Don't look to your sister for help_." Burt chastised. "_Who is he?_"

Kurt looked down at his polished, black leather shoes, avoiding his father's eyes for a few split seconds hoping to find the right answer. "_He's a...friend?_"

"_A friend?_" Burt asked, raising an eyebrow, his voice becoming stern. "_You aren't sure what he is?_"

Repressing his fears Kurt looked his father in the eyes. "_He's a friend_." He said with more conviction. "_We fought in the war together._"

"_He was speaking English._"

"_He was with me when I was in translation._" Kurt lied through his teeth, knowing he was going to regret it later but now he just needed to get his father off of his back, so he could get Blaine ready for the interrogation later.

"_Translation?_" Burt asked, looking to Lena for any further information.

Kurt sighed. "_Yes, Dad, translation. I'm sure I mentioned that I was transferred to translation, before I went to the trenches..._"

Burt grimaced at the mention of the trenches. It was a subject the family chose to ignore, more on Kurt's part than anyone else's. Kurt refused to talk about it and Burt hated to hear about it since he felt that he was responsible for him going.

"_So, did you invite him?_" Burt asked cautiously, worried he was going to set Kurt off.

Kurt felt a pang of guilt at the worry coating his father's voice. "_Well I did, after I saw him at the station._" Kurt smiled shyly at the recent event. "_He was looking for me, Dad._"

Raising an eyebrow, Burt looked at his blushing son. "_He was looking for you?_"

Glancing at his sister, Kurt saw her smile widen and as a twinkle grew in her hazel eyes. "_Yes._" His smile broadened as he looked back to his father. "_He came to Düsseldorf to find me_."

Burt was silent, surveying Kurt's face. Something Kurt had learned in his nineteen years was that when his father became silent you had to tread carefully otherwise you could come face to face with a beast like no other.

The air in the room was tense, as Kurt and Lena exchanged glances waiting for any movement from Burt.

Kurt was starting to worry about what Burt was going to do when, suddenly, Kurt saw a trace of a smile tugging at his father's lips. "_Well then, I guess I'll meet him later_." He smiled. "_But right now, we have a wedding to start_."

Glancing over to Lena, Kurt saw her face pale. "_I'm not ready for this._" She whispered to their father, tears gleaming in her hazel eyes. "_I'm scared._"

Moving swiftly to Lena's side, Burt engulfed her in a tight hug rubbing small circles into her back while he murmured soft words of encouragement and love.

Feeling like he was intruding on a private moment, Kurt grabbed his cane and slipped out of the room as quietly as he could.

Taking a deep breath, Kurt leaned against the wall closing his eyes for a moment to think. He lied to his father, something he had never really done before, (at least not to such an extent). But now was not the time for Kurt to go into the whole story of how Blaine had, in fact, on first meeting Kurt held a blade to his head in the intention of running the metal through his skull. No, that was definitely not a story to tell your father on his younger sister's wedding day. No, that was more of a dinner conversation, one where soup was being served and knives where nowhere to be found.

Heaving a sigh, Kurt pushed off of the wall. He should really go and check on Noah and the rest of the boys. He had already put it off too long. He walked briskly past the washrooms to the second room, in which Noah was to be held.

Kurt knocked softly on the door, waiting for the okay to enter.

"_What's the password?_" A male voice asked.

For a split second, Kurt thought of what the password could be, before he remembered that honestly it really wouldn't matter. He had the best weapon to get them to open the door. "_I don't know, but let me in before Lena has any more of an aneurysm from you idiots._"

The door swung open so quickly it smacked into the wall, revealing Bryan, looking vaguely worried, but standing behind him was a horrified Noah.

Kurt sighed as he walked into the room, looking into the corner where two small girls sat eating some sort of pastry. "_What are you eating?_" He asked the girls and their heads swiveled to look at him.

He was sure his eyes bugged out of his head as he saw the traces of strawberry strudel on both Anna's and Sara's faces, and on closer inspection crumbs were scattered all over the laps of their wine coloured dresses that Kurt had painstakingly constructed just a few weeks ago. "_Is that strudel?_" Kurt exclaimed, rounding on the two grown men standing on the other side of the room.

Noah, at least, had the decency to look sorry for his actions but Bryan looked quite proud of himself for snatching the strudel from the kitchens.

"_It was Bryan's idea."_ Noah mumbled, pointing to his friend.

"_We were bored_." Bryan supplied, a smile playing on his lips.

Kurt closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself before he said anything he might regret. Bryan had always had a way of testing him, ever since they were children, and now seemed to be no different. If anything, this was a true test of Kurt's control over his anger. But no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't contain it.

"_Forget Lena having an aneurysm, I might have one! Do you know how much time I have put into the wardrobe for this wedding?!_" Kurt screeched. "_For the sake of my sister's sanity, I am not going to maim you for potentially getting yourselves dirty before her wedding, which, I might add, she has been having a mental breakdown over for months. So why either of you thought this was a brilliant idea, I have no clue._"

Kurt paused his rant to take a deep breath and look at the two men, who, he had to admit, looked appropriately horrified by Kurt's threats. "S_o, are there any strawberry stains on your white shirts? Or are you safe from any impending screaming?_"

Noah and Bryan looked down at their chests to ensure they hadn't spilt any of the syrup on their clothing. The looks on their faces after having not found a single speck could only be described as pure relief.

"_You two are so lucky._" Kurt mumbled as the two men gave each other pats on their backs for being able to eat without making a mess.

Turning his attention to the two girls, and noticing that the two of them had discarded their treats, he moved to stand next to the small table. "_Now you two,_" Kurt began, looking them over for any damage to their dresses. "_You need to go and wipe all of the syrup off of your faces and, shake the crumbs from your dresses._"

The girls nodded, standing and brushing at their dresses to scatter the crumbs. Kurt stilled them to ensure that nothing remained on the dresses and at his nod of approval the girls darted from the room.

"_Oh, girls._" Kurt called waiting for their heads to pop into view again.

Anna stood in the doorway fully, not in the least bit scared of her brother's earlier outburst, while Sara hid behind her friend, her big brown eyes looking down at her cream shoes. "_Yes, Kurt?_" Anna asked, one of her eyebrows raised.

Kurt smiled at the girls, getting Sara to move out of hiding. "_Don't mention any of this to Lena. It will only get us all in trouble._" The girls grinned and Kurt continued. "_Now finish getting cleaned up, and go over to Lena's room. We have a wedding to start._"


	13. Chapter 12

Hey Everyone! First, we have to apologize for the long wait but per usual school has made us it's bitch. Second, this chapter is longer so hopefully it will make up for the long wait, and encourage you guys to comment like really guys, please comment, and come and bug us on tumblr too I mean, we are nice people!

Well, we hope you enjoy the chapter! ;) And remember to send us some loves!

Disclaimer: It's not ours. We know. Shut up.

Also, German is still in italics.

* * *

******February 22nd, 1919 - Düsseldorf, Germany**

**Kurt**

The wedding went without any major mishaps. Bryan didn't pass out; likely thanks to Kurt purposefully leaning his cane on Bryan's foot every time he started to sway. The girls were well behaved after Kurt gave them a good glare for trying to talk during the vows. Even the loud growl from Noah's stomach from fasting all day didn't ruin anything; judging from the crowd's reaction, people had found it rather adorable.

All in all Kurt was happy with the results. The only thing he couldn't shake was the impulse to glance at Blaine every other minute, but it wasn't his fault the man was so distracting. He kept telling himself to ignore Blaine but the feeling of being watched would creep back up and cause shivers and goose bumps and damn if that wasn't distracting.

Sighing, Kurt limped over to the reception hall, keeping an eye out for Blaine among the crowd of people milling about.

Not finding Blaine among the crowd, Kurt continued into the hall. The room was decorated simply in wine and cream; tulle was draped in half circles on the white plastered walls of the old building. Tables were set on the far side of the room, covered in wine red cloth with cream napkins at every seat. A small arrangement of roses was placed in the center of each table. One wall of the room had tall windows and double doors that led to a small courtyard, which was decorated with some Chinese lanterns Lena had found. On the opposite wall was a long table covered with platters of food. The smells wafting through the air making Kurt's stomach grumble.

Kurt navigated his way through the people already gathering around the food, and caught a glimpse of Quinn who was standing with a tall, blond man that Kurt didn't know.

"_Quinn!"_ Kurt called, moving towards the woman.

She grinned when she caught sight of Kurt, before placing a gentle hand on her companion's arm and whispering something into his ear. _"Yes, Kurt?"_ She asked politely, but Kurt could tell from the sharp look in her eyes that he should make it quick or face her wrath later.

"_Sorry to interrupt."_ He gave both of them an apologetic smile. _"Do you know where Blaine is?"_

Quinn's eyes lit up. _"Oh, yes!"_ She leaned up onto her toes to look over the heads in front of her. _"I left him with Elsa a few minutes ago- Oh, there he is_." She pointed to a table in the far corner where Blaine sat alone, looking rather nervous.

"_Thanks."_ Kurt sighed, giving them both a quick nod as he moved to Blaine's table.

Blaine was sitting alone, scanning the crowd around him and smiling nervously at everyone that passed his table. He looked like a lost puppy just hoping for some attention and his entire being seemed to light up as soon as he caught sight of Kurt coming towards him. It was adorable how he sat up taller, thrummed with excitement and smiled in a way that made Kurt's heart swell.

"Hi." Blaine looked at Kurt with his big hazel eyes; yep, he was definitely a puppy.

"Hi." Kurt chuckled and sat gingerly on the chair to Blaine's right. He rubbed at his sore leg, ignoring Blaine's sudden interest. "So, what did you think of the wedding?"

Blaine jerked from his thoughts snapping his head up. "It was nice, I was completely lost but I think got the gist of it." He grinned. "Something along the lines of your sister and her husband-"

"Lena and Noah." Kurt supplied, as he continued his circular motions on his muscles.

"Lena and Noah," Blaine mimicked, blushing slightly. "Well, that they said some heartfelt vows somewhere around the time you were tearing up and they must have said 'I do' since there wasn't any uproar."

"Well, there almost was." Kurt murmured, glancing over to the bar where some men stood waiting for their beers, one of which was Bryan.

Following Kurt's gaze, Blaine looked over to the bar, one of his thick eyebrows raised in question. "Oh?"

Kurt gave Blaine a crooked grin and beckoned him closer whispering in the other man's ear. "It has nothing to do with Lena and Noah, but between you and me, Bryan was tanked."

Blaine's eyes widened then turned confused. "Wait, who's Bryan?"

"The other groomsman."

"So, that's why he was swaying on his feet!" Blaine laughed, looking back towards the bar for a moment then back to Kurt, a small grin on his face. "And why you kept leaning your cane on his foot."

"Someone had to keep him in line." Kurt grinned wolfishly.

"Remind me to stay sober around you." Blaine joked, eyes shining.

Holding back a laugh, Kurt smiled. "I would love to see you try and stay sober at a German wedding."

Blaine studied Kurt, gauging his comment. "Is that a challenge?" He asked, leaning forward and crossing his arms, a cocky grin growing on his face.

Kurt sat motionless, stunned by the sudden change in Blaine's demeanor. "I'm sorry?" He uttered, instantly cursing himself for how breathless he sounded.

"I asked if that was a challenge." Blaine repeated, his smile turning a little feral, but his eyes were full of laughter.

Clearing his throat Kurt sat a little taller. "You honestly think you can stay sober?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Leaning back in his chair Blaine let his head fall back. "It can't be that hard."

"Oh, it can." Kurt snorted, glancing around the group of people. "Germans know how to party and that means we know how to drink."

"Englishmen know how to drink." Blaine pouted.

Kurt flashed Blaine a reassuring smile. "Oh, I have no doubt but you haven't met my family." He shrugged. "We live for a good brew."

"So, are you planning on drinking tonight?" Blaine asked, watching groups of people walk happily towards empty seats to eat their meals.

"I don't think so." Kurt chuckled, gesturing to where Noah and some of the guests had already broken open the liquor. "Someone has to keep all of my family in line. Hence the reason you should, unless you have a reason not to."

Blaine grinned. "Last time I drank was with some old trench mates- and long story short, cheap whiskey isn't always the best thing to drink on an empty stomach."

"Well, I can assure you that the liquor isn't cheap and there is plenty of food." He assured him, watching Blaine smirk from the corner of his eye. "So, are you hungry?"

"Starved." Blaine whined, looking a bit sheepish. "I haven't eaten in a while."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "And how long is a while?" The other man mumbled incoherently, fidgeting with his cuff links. "Sorry, I didn't catch that."

Blaine looked up at Kurt through his think lashes, a blush growing on his cheeks. "A few days." He whispered for only Kurt to hear.

"Please tell me you are exaggerating." Kurt pleaded, wondering how the man wasn't passed out in front of him from hunger.

"No." Blaine said weakly. "I was sleeping most of the way so it wasn't so bad, and I had a snack on the train."

Standing up, Kurt held out his hand for Blaine. "Come on; let's go get some food in you."

His breath caught at the look that Blaine gave him. His curls were beginning fall out around his face and he wore a goofy grin, which made his eyes shine with happiness. He looked so young and handsome at that moment, Kurt could just see the man that was hidden to him in that trench, with all the blood and mud gone. This was the real Blaine, no masks to hide behind, and the thought took his breath away.

Blaine's warm hand slid into Kurt's own, jolting him from his thoughts. He held on tight to Kurt, but didn't use the assistance that Kurt was offering. Instead his lopsided grin just grew as he squeezed Kurt's hand in his larger one. Blaine's hand was warm and callused against Kurt's, and the contrast between hard and soft felt perfect, like they were made to fit together.

"Well, shall we?" Blaine asked his eyes flitting around Kurt's face, starting from Kurt's eyes and working down and freezing on his lips.

Clearing his throat, Kurt grinned as Blaine's eyes flashed back to Kurt's. "Yeah." He breathed. "Let's go get you some food." Tugging on Blaine's arm Kurt led them towards the table.

* * *

Watching Blaine eat was something Kurt had never known could be so amusing.

One second Blaine is eating daintily with manners that could put Kurt's own to shame, the next he's eating like a wild man. It was one of the oddest things.

When the two of them had settled into their seats Blaine had begun to pick at his food moving the different dishes around to inspect the contents, while making some very interesting faces.

Not wanting to seem like some crazy person watching Blaine play with his food, Kurt started eating, enjoying the comforting tastes of well-cooked food from his childhood.

Chancing a glance through his lashes, Kurt smiled when he saw Blaine mimicking his actions. The man was following Kurt in what he was eating, making sure he was eating them the way it was intended. It was extremely endearing to see how Blaine hesitantly took small bites of the food testing them on his palette before he made a face and a noise that was far too sinful to be making in public.

Kurt stiffened when he heard the first of many satisfied groans leave Blaine's infuriatingly gorgeous mouth. Shifting a little in his seat, Kurt suddenly felt like his skin was too tight and the temperature in the room had risen for some insane reason.

Feeling the heat on his cheeks rising as Blaine let out another blissful sound, Kurt quickly turned his attentions back to his food trying to ignore the sounds escaping the British man's mouth. All to no avail. Blaine just kept going, and Kurt was just about ready to scream in frustration until the sounds stopped.

Kurt glanced up from his plate and the sight before him nearly made him drop his fork. Blaine was no longer eating delicately, oh no, he was eating like it was his last meal. He was shoveling food into his mouth at a pace that was more acceptable for a hungry animal rather than humans, but here Blaine was hunched over his food, scarfing it down and by the looks of it hardly even chewing.

Taking a quick look around him, Kurt checked that no one was watching Blaine's sudden change, knowing that if his father saw, the conversation that they had earlier would be brought up quicker than Blaine could devour the rest of the contents on his plate.

Sighing in relief that he and Blaine were being ignored for the bride and groom, Kurt turned his attention back to Blaine, who was lost to the world, in favour of the food in front of him.

Kurt chuckled, placing his fork down for a moment to wipe at his mouth. "Hungry?"

Blaine froze, his fork midway to his mouth and glanced up at Kurt. "Sorry?" He asked, confused.

"I asked if you were hungry." Kurt smiled fondly, watching Blaine sit up and place his fork down gently.

The other man began to rub at his knees, his eyes darting from his lap to Kurt in rapid succession. Leaning forward, Kurt grabbed at the knee closest to him, stilling Blaine's movements. Holding his breath, Kurt waited for Blaine to do something but all the British man did was stare at Kurt's hand on his leg.

"It's fine Blaine. I'm sure that I would be doing the same if I hadn't had something solid in my stomach in two days." Kurt chuckled, earning a slight smile from the man beside him. "But you might want to slow down a bit there, Tarzan."

Blaine laughed, looking up from Kurt's hand. "Tarzan?"

"You have been kind of eating like a jungle man." Kurt shrugged, pulling his hand away from Blaine. "And your hair, when in a natural state, is rather 'wild.'"

"My hair is never like that in public." Blaine defended, giving Kurt a playful glare. "And I usually have impeccable table manners." He assured Kurt.

"Well, that is yet to be seen." Kurt joked, picking up his fork to continue his meal.

They ate in silence for a while, Kurt chancing looks at Blaine, as the other man ate quietly, looking around the room as things began to get a bit more rowdy.

The party was getting into full swing now. Noah and Lena were dancing in the open space with their friends, both smiling and their hands were clasped in a vice grip refusing to let go for longer than needed. They were sickly sweet together stealing kisses whenever they wished, and basking in the attention they were receiving.

Smiling Kurt continued to look around at all of the happy faces, noting that many of the party goers were now holding pints of beer, and laughing boisterously over the sounds of the band. Hearing a familiar laugh, Kurt strained his neck to catch a glance of his father talking with some distant relatives over a pint.

Shaking his head, Kurt looked back at a content Blaine who was now leaning back in his chair rubbing his full belly.

"Looks like you enjoyed your meal." Kurt laughed.

Blaine chuckled, rolling his head to smile at Kurt. "Loved it." He mumbled. "But you may have to roll me back to your house afterward; I don't think I have the energy to move."

"That isn't going to happen." Kurt snorted. "At least not in that outfit, it took me two days to get it to fit Joshua."

Humming, Blaine sat up rolling his shoulders. "I guess I will just have to find a corner to sleep off all this food."

"Or you can just sit back and relax a bit." A familiar female voice said behind them.

Kurt nearly jumped out of his skin, turning his neck so quickly that it cracked. "Jesus Christ Lena!" Kurt hissed, sending a terrified Blaine an apologetic look.

She grinned. "Sorry, I didn't think I was being that quiet." She said placing a gentle hand on Kurt's shoulder as an apology.

"Yes, well, with this noise, I would be surprised if anyone heard you sneaking up on them like that." Kurt grumbled, sending his sister a fond smile. "So, what do we owe the pleasure?" He pushed his chair out so it would face Lena.

"I wanted to see where my brother ran off to." Lena said glancing over from Kurt to Blaine with a radiant smile. "And we kind of got off on the wrong foot, didn't we? We should be properly introduced. I'm Lena, Kurt's younger sister." She smiled, offering her hand to Blaine.

Grinning, Blaine took her offered hand. "Blaine Anderson."

Kurt froze as her eyebrow rose, a slight flicker of confusion showing on her face from Blaine's answer as she put on one of her perfected false smiles and turned to Kurt. '_Anderson?_' She mouthed.

Panicking, Kurt did the only thing he could think of to get her away from Blaine so he could explain properly.

"Let's dance!" He practically shouted, grabbing Lena's hand as he sent Blaine a quick glance over his shoulder in apology, trying to relay to the very confused man that he would explain later.

"_What the hell was that about?_" Lena hissed, as Kurt pulled her close for a waltz.

Kurt looked anywhere but at his sister's fuming face. "_Nothing, I just wanted to dance._"

"_His last name is Anderson._" She whispered quietly for only Kurt to hear. "_That is not a German last name._"

"_Really?_" Kurt said condescendingly. "_I never noticed._"

"_Kurt._" Lena whined, as she stepped on his foot on purpose.

"_Ow! Lena, stop acting like a brat!_" Kurt spat gaining some looks and chuckles from the other couples dancing.

Ignoring them like the pro Lena was, she continued on her interrogation. "_Who is this man, really?_" She asked, watching Kurt's face for a reaction, and when she didn't get what she wanted she continued. "_I mean he has an English name, Kurt, English._"

"_I don't see what the big deal is-_" Kurt argued.

"_The big deal is,_" Lena hissed, looking around quickly and finally noticing that they were gaining attention, leaned in closer so only Kurt could hear her. "_You and I both know he wouldn't have been let into the service with a name like that. At least not in the German Army._"

"_What are you trying to say?_" He growled, sending Lena an angry look.

"_I'm saying that you are not telling us something_."

"_Now isn't the time, Lena._"

"_And when is?_" She exclaimed, her voice hitching as they continued to sway to the music.

Sighing, Kurt watched Lena's face lined with worry and traces of anger. "_Lena, please just drop it for now._"

"_Kurt-_"

"_Lena please, I promise I will tell you everything._" Kurt begged. "_But now is not the time_."

Groaning, she settled her strong hazel eyes on Kurt. "_Fine, I'll drop it, but only if you tell me one thing._"

"_Fine._" Kurt mumbled, glaring at his sister.

"_Can you tell me one thing?_" She asked leaning her head on his shoulder and continuing as he nodded against her hair. "_He isn't German, is he?_"

Kurt snorted. "_What gave it away_?" He mocked, earning a swat on the back of his head.

"_Stop being a smart ass!_"

"_Only if you stop being so dense!_" Kurt countered, laughing when Lena stuck out her tongue. Kurt rolled his eyes as they stopped swaying to clap for the band before a more upbeat foxtrot started. Pulling Lena back in, Kurt led them around the floor thankful that Lena was willing to help take some of his weight off of his bad leg. "_So, what's it like being Mrs. Puckerman?_" Kurt asked, trying to move the subject away from Blaine.

Lena grinned, her eyes becoming dreamy. "_Like a fairy tale._"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "_Oh, please. I know Noah and he is nothing like a fairy tale prince._"

"_No, not for you_." She smiled wolfishly, her eyes looking past him at the others dancing around them. "_Your prince has crazy curly hair, a dreamy smile, an English last name, and he is so charming_."

Kurt blushed, leading his sister around the dance floor. "_What is with that goofy smile you have plastered on your face?_" The smile grew as Lena nodded to something happening behind him.

Raising an eyebrow Kurt looked behind him scanning the crowd for what Lena was gesturing to until his eyes landed on one of the most adorable sights he could ever see.

Further out on the floor was Anna, smiling from ear to ear and laughing as Blaine spun her in circles. Bringing her back into his arms they swayed to the music, Blaine smiling at something the young girl had said.

"_I think you may have some competition._" Lena laughed.

"_Sorry?_" He asked, as he guided them closer to the band, which Kurt would deny to his death that he was actually moving to get closer to Blaine and Anna.

"_I said, I think you have competition._" Lena repeated, giving a knowing smile as Kurt led them closer to the other couple.

Humming, Kurt continued to watch Blaine dance with his younger sister. He looked so happy as he span Anna again to the beat of the music. A giggle from Lena made Kurt glance towards her cheeky face, raising an eyebrow in question.

"_I was going to say that Anna seems pretty smitten with him._" She grinned mischievously. "_But, I think you have her beat._"

"_Oh, shut up._" Kurt mumbled, trying to hide his blush as someone tapped on his shoulder.

Pausing, Kurt turned to see a red faced Anna her smile radiant and contagious. "_Do you mind if I cut in?_" She asked, doing her best mock-curtsy.

Chuckling, Kurt followed suit as he bowed. "_By all means, but watch out she likes to stomp on your feet._" He whispered the last bit to Anna who giggled and assured him that she would be alright.

Kurt watched fondly for a moment as his two sisters danced around the now full dance floor. When he looked around the room for Blaine, he instead caught a glimpse of Quinn dancing with a tall blond man, her cheeks flushed from laughing and dancing and her skirt twirling perfectly around her legs.

"Are you looking for me?" Blaine asked, as he wandered into view holding two glasses of punch, holding one out to Kurt.

Accepting the glass, Kurt nodded, feeling the blush rise in his cheeks, and gestured for Blaine to follow him back to the table they had vacated earlier.

Kurt placed his glass on the table, gingerly sitting down in the chair he had occupied earlier. He tried to hold back a wince as he extended his left leg and started to absentmindedly rub at the wounded flesh.

"How did that happen?" Blaine questioned suddenly, nodding towards Kurt's leg as he took a sip from his glass, and sat in the chair to Kurt's left.

"Umm, is that a trick question?" Kurt teased, rubbing a little harder at the sore muscles of his thigh.

"No." Blaine chuckled, placing his glass next to Kurt's on the table. "Well, it wasn't meant to be."

Kurt chuckled. "Well, long story short, I got shot." He began, grinning at Blaine as he rolled his eyes at the obvious statement. Kurt sighed and told the short version of his escapades in the trenches, looking up at Blaine through his thick lashes when he was done.

The other man sat quietly his eyes trained on Kurt's face, his brows furrowed in thought. "What?" Kurt asked, knowing the man was fighting himself to not to say something.

"Did it hurt?" Blaine asked quietly, flinching as soon as the words slipped through his lips. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for."

"It's fine, Blaine." Kurt assured him, squeezing Blaine's knee for a moment. "And yeah, it did." He laughed; of course it hurt, Kurt thought sarcastically, he had metal embed itself into his flesh. "It hurt a lot actually, but I don't remember most of it. I guess that is a blessing of sorts."

Blaine nodded, suddenly glancing out towards the dancing guests as if he was retreating back into himself. "So, you're doing better now?" He asked absentmindedly, as he turned back to Kurt worry etched on Blaine's handsome face.

"Much." Kurt smiled sweetly, hoping that Blaine would be satisfied with his answer.

"Good." Blaine grinned, rubbing his hands together as he turned a bit more to face Kurt properly, leaning his head on his hand. "So tell me, what have you been doing since the end of the war?"

Arching an eyebrow, Kurt grinned. "It's not very interesting."

"I wouldn't say that." Blaine grinned like an excited puppy. "I know for a fact that I will find it very interesting."

"I doubt that." Kurt snorted, but despite it all Kurt told Blaine everything that had happened to him since he had returned home. It was odd for him to have someone sitting beside him, hanging on every word that crossed his lips when most of the time people would ignore his ramblings about the shop.

Yet here sat Blaine, smiling like Kurt was the most precious thing he had ever laid eyes on, humming at all of the right spots in Kurt's story. The way Blaine's hazel eyes twinkled with happiness, made Kurt's heart beat way too fast and he was sure that Blaine could hear the pounding of it from his close proximity, but the man said nothing if he did.

Winding down on his story, Kurt blushed suddenly noticing that he was talking with his hands, something he had tried to stop for years but despite everything it was a quirk that he couldn't shake. With a final shrug Kurt smiled at Blaine. "So, that's all that really happened, like I said, nothing exciting."

"You were right, it wasn't very interesting." Blaine teased, rubbing at the thick stubble on his chin.

"You are incorrigible." Kurt breathed, swatting lightly at Blaine's arm.

"You know you are the second person to tell me that." Blaine said, shrugging his shoulders as he drifted in thought.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Only the second?" He asked, fighting a smile as Blaine clutched a hand to his chest in mock offense.

"You wound me, sir!" Blaine said dramatically, clutching his hand tighter over his 'wounded' heart.

"And everyone calls me dramatic." Kurt chuckled, shaking his head at Blaine's antics. "So Blaine." Kurt asked, watching as Blaine relaxed in his chair smiling sweetly at Kurt. "What about you? I told you my story, I think you should tell yours."

Kurt could see Blaine go stiff for a moment. "There is nothing to tell." Blaine said stiffly, suddenly finding the people hoisting Puck and Lena into the air in chairs more interesting than their conversation.

"I'm not asking for everything, Blaine." Kurt said quietly, smiling as Blaine tilted his head to signal that he was still listening even though his eyes were glued on the scene in front of them. "I'm just... curious, I guess."

Sighing, Blaine looked at Kurt, his face torn. "I'm not ready to talk about the war." Blaine began. "And well, my life since the war hasn't been anything to smile about."

Kurt only nodded to Blaine's poor attempt at trying to change the subject, the man had to learn early that Kurt was as stubborn as a mule so he needed to get used to not ever winning an argument.

So, with a huge sigh and a mumble of "I warned you" Blaine began to weave the story of his life since they had last seen each other.

"My father and mother met me at the station, when I got home. She looked horrible, which I guess was to be expected; her oldest son was dead, and I was nothing like what I used to be, so that must have been a surprise for her. But that wasn't why she looked so tired; it was because my father was dying. He looked horrible, he was always an intimidating man, but I just remember he looked like if I would touch him the wrong way he would shatter." Blaine paused, his eyes suddenly moving from where he was staring at the far wall to where Kurt was sitting beside him. "Mother was so distraught about Cooper dying but my father was heartbroken. I know he was upset that it was Cooper and not me."

Kurt tried to keep his tears from falling. He felt horrible for moments earlier gushing about how his father was so happy to have him home, while Blaine's wished that he was the one that was killed.

He flinched when he felt Blaine's hand on his cheek wiping at the traitorous tear that escaped. "I'm sorry." Kurt mumbled, wiping at his own eyes when Blaine pulled away.

"You have no reason to be." Blaine assured him, giving Kurt a small sad smile before he continued his story. "Anyways, he died of the Spanish flu about two weeks ago. My mother sold everything after that, she told me she was going off to help out a relative who has polio. I decided to go visit some old mates from the war, find myself." He chuckled. "But instead, I trek halfway across Europe."

Kurt tried not to let his disappointment show on his face as he gave Blaine a smile. He didn't answer the question Kurt had floating in his head all day, and he couldn't keep it in anymore, he just had to know. So despite his better judgement, Kurt blurted out what he needed to ask.

"Blaine. Why are you here?"

* * *

**Blaine**

Blaine couldn't help but avoid eye contact with Kurt, turning his head slightly to the left where he could vaguely see some enthusiastic couples twirling about to something more upbeat and energetic then he remembered. He knew that he couldn't just lie to the other man, because knowing how dismal Blaine's luck was it would eventually end up doing more harm than good in the long run, but on the other hand he didn't feel like he could tell Kurt the straight truth just yet, so here he was stuck in an agonizing dilemma in a room that suddenly gotten way too hot.

"Uh…" He started lamely, feeling Kurt's bright eyes resting on his face. Blaine was trying rather hard not to flush under the gaze which was a feat in itself but then his hands started to twitch. His fingers trembled and spasmed as he reached up to rub the back of his neck and tug at the now too tight collar utterly embarrassed that he couldn't force anything else out, other than loud raspy breathing sounds.

"Blaine?" Kurt leaned in further and Blaine could smell the lingering sent of greasy and heavy German food and beer, the distinct fragrance of the perfumed soap and a little something that was uniquely Kurt.

"Blaine, are you alright?" The German man's voice dropped to a low, almost whisper as his eyes scanned the room for any eavesdroppers while his opened palm hovered dangerously close to Blaine's knee.

"Is it something you ate?" He asked in all seriousness. "Because you know I did warn you about eating so fast."

Blaine choked back a laugh, shook his head and turned to look at Kurt whose face was contorted into a seriously concerned expression. Immediately Blaine felt terrible for making him worry.

"No, no, I'm good!" He gave Kurt a small uneasy smile and allowed his eyes to dart off to the side and all the attractive people floating about the makeshift dance floor seemingly ending the conversation for now.

He could feel Kurt pull away leaving the small space between their bodies suspiciously cold and somewhat unreceptive. From his peripheral vision Blaine could see Kurt sigh and shoot him a small frown before turning his head to look in the same direction. It was obvious that Kurt was still looking for an answer and it made Blaine feel even more guilty because he knew that this talk was far from over and that he could only stall the inevitable for so long. So until then Blaine would have to sit in this unbearable silence with Kurt, looking on hopelessly as Noah twirled his bride around and around the room.

"Your sister does look beautiful." Blaine looked back to his right and then jerked his head in the direction of the dancers from which peals of laughter reached them. Kurt nodded nonchalantly with his eyes darting between family and friends before they landed on Quinn. She looked almost radiant in under the lights as the skirt of dress swirled around her shins as she danced lithely around her partners kicking at the air and allowing them to pick her up. These men, for the most part, seemed overly uniform and bland with wide shoulders and attractive square jaws but no distinguishing features.

"Did… did you…" Blaine trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck again until the skin was a bright enough red to match the blush on his face. He could feel the familiar pull in his gut and the brief rush of panic before Kurt shifted slightly to his left and tilted his head questioningly. A small encouraging smile crossed those thin lips, as if the German knew what Blaine was about to say but was decidedly not going to make this any easier.

"Yes?" Kurt drawled, seeming very intent on watching Blaine chew on his lip and nod in the direction of the dance floor, while trying to look as clueless as possible. It wasn't really working because of the laughing which only made Blaine blush harder and wring his hands together, trying to breathe deeply.

"Would you like to dance?" The words came out in one long rush of air sounding almost unintelligible but Kurt seemed to understand because his cheeks flushed slightly while he smiled and nodded. In response, Blaine almost fainted and had to take a moment to collect himself or risk embarrassing both of them in front of Kurt's extended network of family and friends.

"Well, are you coming or am I going to have to dance alone?" Kurt asked with a smooth tone, somewhere in the midst of Blaine's panic Kurt had gotten to his feet and was now standing in front of the other man with a sly sparkle in his eyes.

Blaine nodded, his chapped lips twitching upwards into a wide smile as he placed his hand down on the table top and slowly pushed himself up onto his feet. Kurt helped him, reaching out to grip his forearm and pulling him towards the dance floor. People were vacating the area in bright clusters, chatting and laughing as they moved their way towards the punch table. The band was moving about setting up equipment and instruments for another set, something more lively and modern then what Blaine remembered.

"So, you know how to actually dance, right?" Kurt asked as they wandered closer, walking side by side but no longer touching. "Please tell me that whatever that was before was just for Anna's benefit."

"Yeah, sure. I mean it's just like swaying side to side, right?" Blaine couldn't help but chuckle at the horrified look Kurt was giving him as the German skidded to a halt and grabbed at Blaine's left wrist, tugging him back.

"I'm sorry, what!?" Kurt seemed about ready to turn back to their seats but Blaine tugged his arm and started to walk forwards, forcing the other man to follow as he continued to laugh.

"I'm just kidding, Kurt, calm down. I'll let you know, I can do a mean Grizzly Bear." Kurt grimaced but seemed to settle down after that, allowing himself to be pulled towards the dance floor. People were returning, almost skipping as they brushed past with their bright smiles and the last remaining sips of punch swirling around the bottom of their glasses.

"Just so you know, no one does the Grizzly Bear anymore." Kurt scoffed. They were now standing at the edge while the centered was filled with guests partnering up and scouting out sections where they could go crazy and not worry about smacking into the couple next to them. The band members were moving back into place.

"What do you mean?" Blaine tried to look affronted by placing a hand on his chest as he gasped but it wasn't very effective as he couldn't seem to shake the smile still tugging at the corners of his lips. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on, that style died years ago. Get with the times."

The trumpet started up, loud and striking against the soft haunt of the clarinet and low thump of the drums, which was followed up by the strumming of cords and tickle of piano keys. Then the trombone player stepped forward and a powerful penetrating timber burst forth, gaining momentum until all the instruments came together to create something so bubbly and commanding that it made Blaine's knees shake.

Everyone was swinging around them with their arms flailing and legs kicking in every direction, while the music seemed to flow through them. Quinn was across the floor in the arms of other man, smiling and laughing as they kicking simultaneously in the same direction before twirling their bodies.

Blaine pulled back a little, turning to glance at Kurt, who looked as equally unsure as Blaine felt. He looked over at Blaine and gave him a shaky smile making it obvious that this type of dancing wasn't what he was used to. For a brief second, Blaine thought of grabbing Kurt's arm turning back, afraid that this might be just a little too much for the other man's leg. He didn't get a chance to before Kurt was grabbing his arm and dragging him into the fray.

"You think you can handle it?" Kurt gave Blaine a dry look and spun around, kicking a leg out while pushing his arm into the air. For a dance that was supposed to look so sporadic Kurt made it seem almost graceful. He was light on his feet and fast with the moves, swaying his hips and jumping lithely as if gravity didn't affect him. Blaine was in awe. He couldn't seem to move so he stood there amongst the dancers like an idiot, doing a particularly a good impression of a blockade which was earning him some very dirty looks from people who would knock into him. He received an especially brutal glower from the tall attractive man with perfect blond hair dancing with a giggling Quinn who flashed him an apologetic grin.

Kurt was only a few feet away swinging his hips side to side while tapping the point of his left foot out in front of him, thin arms following the sway of his body. He paused in his movements to look up at Blaine questioningly before a smug smile crossed his impish face. He danced his way back to where Blaine was standing like a statue and grabbed at Blaine's forearm tugging him further into the fray with that devious glint in his eye.

"Figures." He joked. "All talk and no dance."

Blaine stepped back looking insulted, his hands flying to his waist in a gesture reminiscent of his mother, while Kurt seemed entirely too pleased with himself.

"I hope you're ready to eat those words. Now stand back and be amazed."

This new style of dance was insanely different than what he was used to or remembered, and it made Blaine painfully obvious that to the fact that he too seemed outdated in this world of lavish parties, champagne and dancing. He tried his best to copy the moves of those around him and seemed to be doing a pretty decent job if the approving look Kurt was giving him was any indication.

It became easier with movement and soon Blaine was feeling pretty proud of himself as he jumped, kicked, and swayed to the loud music that seemed to work its way deep into Blaine's bones. It was exhilarating to let lose all this pent up anxiety and Blaine couldn't stop smiling like a moron as he shimmied closer to Kurt.

"Guess I was wrong." Kurt practically shouted over the sound of trombones and trumpets. "You're actually pretty decent."

Blaine's smile widened, watching as Kurt's face seemed to grow red as they moved in closer, to be actually able to hear each other and not have others listen in.

"What can I say, I'm just a natural?" Blaine joked, swinging an arm out and crossing his left leg behind his right, grinning brightly as Kurt repeated the action while rolling his eyes. He snorted loudly. "Really now? Last I remember you were falling into my shell hole."

Blaine let out a strong laugh, throwing back his head as he kicked his leg to the side with the beat before doing it again with the opposite leg. "Oh, you're shell hole. I didn't realize that you had claimed it. How rude of me."

Kurt seemed as if he couldn't stop smiling as he snickered behind his fist before swinging his body around, kicking out and then spinning around again to repeat the same action.

"Yes. How rude indeed, always dropping in unannounced." He added.

"What can I say? It's one of my many talents." Blaine reached out and grabbed at Kurt's arm, pulling him in closer and watching delightedly the expression of shock that crossed Kurt's face. He spun the German man around twice and then back out to his side again. Kurt still seemed stunned as he faltered in his next kick. He was watching Blaine closely with those beautiful, wide, blue eyes and his mouth hanging slightly open.

"Really decent." He muttered loud enough for Blaine to just make out what he had said. "Who do I have to thank for such a wonderful dance partner?"

Those words felt like an immediate punch to the gut, that seemed to draw the air out of Blaine's lungs and for a brief moment he wavered. He paused to try and breathe in deeply, but nothing seemed to be working. Kurt was now standing by his side with a panicked look. The music had died down by now and a flurry of out of breath people were making their way off the dance floor, bumping into and apologising to the two men left remaining alone.

"Blaine. Blaine! Are you okay? Oh god, please say something!"

It seemed like a lifetime before Blaine could breathe again. He smiled weakly at Kurt waving his hand about in front of his chest before letting it rest on the other man's shoulder.

"I'm okay just a little winded. Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. Obviously I'm getting a little too old." Kurt didn't seemed reassured, his lips pulled tight into a thin line, but he didn't say anything as he helped maneuver Blaine back to their table. People parted ways when they saw them approaching with pitied looks on their flushed faces, obviously they didn't look so good.

Blaine was still holding onto Kurt's shoulder, almost leaning on the German before remembering that Kurt might be worse off than him. He pulled away slightly, disappointed at the loss of the heavily breathing body that had been tucked into his side but noticing that the other man was rubbing absently at his thigh.

Sitting down, Blaine could feel the colour returning in his face as he tugged at the bowtie that suddenly felt even tighter then before against his throat. Kurt flopped down heavily into the seat next to him, his face still a little flushed as he reached out to the delicately etched glass cup that had been filled with champagne earlier. He downed it with one go, a few drops escaping down the corners of his lips. Blaine watched them intently as they made their way down the man's chin before being distracted by the way Kurt's Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed.

"Hey, can you help me out here?" Kurt was placing the glass back down, reaching up with his other hand to wipe at his chin before anything could stain his shirt. He tugged at the right lapel of his impeccably tailored jacket, trying to pull it off but was hindered by the fact that he couldn't seem to move his hips without wincing. Blaine stuttered, hoping that the flush from the exercise on the dance floor masked his flush of embarrassment at being caught looking where he shouldn't be.

"Yeah, of course." He reached out and pulled at the sleeve while Kurt shimmied his way out of the jacket before pulling it into his lap and folding it.

"Thanks, it's just so hot in here." Blaine nodded in agreement as he reached out and took a small sip from the glass of water sitting in front of him. Kurt sat fiddling with the material in his lap, running his fingers over the slightly wrinkled fabric as he looked around trying to wave down a waiter. It was almost awkward between them and Blaine didn't like it.

"My brother taught me to dance." He started, absentmindedly swirling the water around. Kurt turned to look at his companion, a little surprised at the turn of events but he didn't say anything, eyes wide and fingers stilling.

"You see, I didn't have many friends when I was a kid and I wasn't close to many people so it was really just Coop who was there to teach me everything I needed to know." His words were soft and he couldn't look Kurt in the eye. A sad little laugh escaped him as he took another swig of water. "I mean, he taught me how to shave."

Kurt nodded slowly while pushing his jacket to the side, hanging it off the back of the chair to his left before laying his hand down on the table top to push himself up. In a half crouch he reached out to grab at the glass of liquor sitting untouched in front of Blaine. Bring it to his lips as he stood stock straight, Kurt chugged it back for some Dutch courage, something Blaine was very familiar with, and then looked down at Blaine.

"Come on, let's get some air." He reached down and grabbed Blaine's shoulder tugging him to his feet. Blaine let him do it, blushing as he followed the man like a lost puppy through the maze of people and tables towards the French doors propped open a sliver to let in some cool, fresh air.

The backyard to the hall was structured cleanly with a rusty coloured brick wall running alongside the sidewalk and the alleyway but was partially hidden by a line of bare trees which followed it, hiding the garden from prying eyes. There were clusters of rose bushes which cornered the small patio built from stone slats which backed off the doors to the reception room, there a few wire chairs sat alongside the building, unused and covered by snow. A thin path made from those same slats led throughout the garden, splitting off to where a gate was situated between the building next door and the brick wall which led to the back alley. Peeking out between the skeleton branches of the some of the trees was the top of a white building, half hidden by the dormant vegetation and tucked into the very edge of the yard.

Kurt rubbed at his forearms with his shaking hands, while shuffling his feet, the heels of his dress shoes clicking at the stone cobbles underneath them.

"Sorry, I guess it was colder than I thought." He smiled sheepishly. Blaine rolled his eyes and shrugged off his jacket and throwing it around Kurt's shivering shoulders.

"Don't go freezing to death on me." He joked, feeling warm as he watched Kurt snuggle into the coat with a pleased smile on his attractive face.

Blaine slipped his hands in the pockets of his slacks and walked off down the path, pausing to wait for Kurt to get himself together and follow. Through the almost floor to ceiling windows of the hall a soft light illuminated their way towards the back corner and the building that Blaine had made out earlier. It was a gazebo, Kurt pointed out, he chattered on and on about how in the summer this place became popular, particularly amongst the neighbourhood, to have weddings where everyone would bring baked treats and decorate the outside with streams of paper lanterns.

It was obvious that this place was a focal point of the community and Blaine could almost see it alive with laughter and flowers, with the soft glow of those lanterns emphasising the stars above. A soft whine of music made it way towards them as they reached the small out building and climbed the stairs. They were hidden away from the windows of the building where soft laughter interrupted the sad strings of waltz, their only light coming from the large moon that hung low and the thousands of tiny pinpricks of light that dotted the night sky.

"Wow." Whistled Blaine as he walked a lap of the room, his eyes glued to the night sky. Kurt stood quietly in the center fiddling with the buttons on the jacket while watching Blaine move quietly about. "Didn't think I would ever see them this clear again."

"Are they bright in England?" Kurt questioned, his voice quiet and timid and the breath leaving him a white cloud of steam.

"In the country, I guess. Never really been out there much, more of a town boy you could say." Blaine smiled at Kurt, as he walking closer to the other man.

"Kurt. Would you dance with me?" He asked and watched as Kurt blushed a bright rosy red all the way to the tips of his adorable ears. This wasn't an innocent invitation like before and they both knew it. Blaine was asking Kurt to waltz with him, alone and away from the prying eyes of anyone else. The implication was obvious.

The wait for a response was the longest moment in Blaine's entire life. He was nervous and afraid that maybe Kurt would laugh at him and say that he didn't feel the same way or call Blaine a freak for suggesting they do something too intimate for two boys. Facing down guns and shells was nothing compared to those five seconds he couldn't breathe as Kurt pondered the question before shyly nodding.

Blaine let out a large breath and pulled Kurt to his chest gently while his right hand, numb from the cold, slid to rest against the dip in Kurt's lower back. He cradled Kurt's left hand in his as the other man lightly placed his opposite hand on Blaine's shoulder, his thumb rubbing against his collar bone.

The music that drifted out to them was quiet, almost indecipherable from all the other noises around them, but they danced along to it, making up the tempo as they went. Blaine had never been happier in his entire life than he was in that moment holding this beautiful man in his arms. Watching Kurt blush and smile, while feeling the nervous beat of his heart against his own chest and knowing that Kurt had said yes and that his didn't think Blaine was a freak.

"Screw decent. You're a fantastic dancer." Kurt murmured against Blaine's shoulder as he followed Blaine's lead, spinning slowly around and around with long strides.

"What did I tell you? I'm naturally talented." Blaine snickered into Kurt's ear, feeling the way the man shuttered against him from the small action. Kurt's cane had been left lounging against the side of his seat at their table and considering just how enthusiastic their dancing had been earlier, it wasn't all that surprising that Kurt's leg had just decided to give out causing Kurt to crash down against Blaine. Hard.

"Oh, damn. Are you okay?"

It was almost comical. Kurt was trying desperately to push himself away from Blaine, embarrassed to high hell but forgetting that his leg wasn't going to hold the weight of his body while Blaine was clinging to him, grunting at the unexpected added weight that had all but blindsided him but realizing that if he let go Kurt would crash to the ground.

"Yeah. Kurt just stop moving or else you're going to hurt yourself." Blaine wheezed out, hoisting Kurt up and fully into his arms where Kurt could get his good leg underneath himself. If he could hoist a wailing, flailing Trent over a trench wall to avoid a mustard gas assault then he could hold up Kurt no problem.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry. Oh god, this is mortifying." Kurt was trying to cover his face as he steadied himself against Blaine's body and Blaine held him in place. Blaine chuckled in to the collar of Joshua's jacket while rubbing his hands up and down Kurt's back, in what he hoped was a comforting motion.

"You must think that I'm pathetic. I can't even hold myself up right." Blaine hummed soothingly his right hand sliding up to cup the back of Kurt's neck; supporting the back of the German's head and forcing him look at Blaine.

"No Kurt. I think you're perfect." He whispered, before pushing their mouths together.


	14. Chapter 13

Hey everyone, well first off we hope you all had a wonderful winter holiday. Our's was busy and horribly annoying at times.

Anyway, we know you guys have been waiting a long time for this next chapter and we are so sorry for the wait, but there were a number of things that we had to do to get this part to work. Like for one cutting this 'chapter' into 2 because it turned into a monstrosity, and also we haven't even finished writing what our outline was to be for 'chapter 13'.

We will try our hardest to try and update a bit more regularly but as you have all noticed that doesn't always work for us… BUT WE WILL TRY!

We hope you all enjoy this chapter, since plot will once again be joining us soon. Please review/comment. And honestly come talk to us on tumblr, sometimes we just need some encouragement to write… and for those of you that have thank you, your kind words are so nice and they keep us going.

Without further ado, here's chapter 13. Enjoy!

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**Remember italicised dialogue is German, regular is English.**

* * *

**February 22nd, 1919 - Düsseldorf, Germany**

**Kurt**

Kurt froze and his eyes widened in shock. His mind was racing and he felt lightheaded when he realized that this was actually happening.

Blaine's lips were on his. Blaine had his mouth pressing against his own. Blaine was kissing him.

Kurt's mind was reeling at all the emotions running through him, shock, nerves, worry, but mostly Kurt was ecstatic at the change in events. He'd figured that it would take at least a few days to get to the point where they were now but here they were, kissing in the moonlight, after the horrible debacle of his leg suddenly giving out in the midst of their romantic dance.

Kurt finally pulled himself from his thoughts and focused on Blaine's mouth. The British man's lips were firm but soft against his own, sending a happy chill down his spine at the contact and causing his eyes to slip shut. It was a simple kiss; nothing more than lips against lips, but to Kurt, it meant the world. It meant that just maybe he might not have to be alone anymore, that he could be himself even in secret.

Just as Kurt felt bold enough to return Blaine's kiss the other man pulled away, causing Kurt to let out an embarrassing whimper as his eyes slowly fluttered open to see what had caused Blaine to stop kissing him.

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for-" Blaine sputtered, turning a dark shade of red and looking anywhere but at Kurt. His arm was still holding Kurt upright but his grip had slackened.

"But it wasn't unwelcome." Kurt smiled, and his heart swelled as Blaine looked into his eyes once more.

"It wasn't?" Blaine asked simply, hope etched on his face as his honey eyes stared intently at him.

Shaking his head Kurt grinned. "It wasn't." He assured him as he plucked up the courage to lean in and kiss the man again.

This time when their lips meet Kurt felt an instant feeling of happiness wash over him. Blaine's lips felt perfect against his own, and Blaine's grip on his waist grew stronger as Blaine returned his kiss.

Kurt let out a small happy sound when Blaine became bolder, pressing forward with more force and need. Blaine was an excellent kisser, not that Kurt had much to compare it too. But Kurt knew that Blaine made his heart flutter uncontrollably just from a slight change in pressure on his lips. And when Blaine hesitantly nibbled on Kurt's bottom lip, Kurt let out an embarrassing moan.

Kurt was grateful that Blaine was still holding his weight because he was sure his knees would have given out from under him, if he had to hold himself up on his own. Kurt relaxed into the kiss, ignoring his brain and just feeling.

Blaine was now soothing Kurt's bitten lip with soft kisses, making low sounds. Kurt felt Blaine tighten his hold on his waist, then hesitantly swipe his tongue along Kurt's lips, without even a second thought Kurt let Blaine deepen the kiss with both men groaning.

Before Kurt knew it Blaine was pulling back once more, and Kurt whined as he followed the other man's lips. Blaine chuckled and Kurt finally opened his eyes to take in Blaine's face. He wore an adorable smirk while Kurt tried to catch his breath and slow his beating heart.

"Well- that was-" Blaine mumbled, his grip on Kurt's hips loosening a bit to let Kurt regain his balance.

"Yeah." Kurt breathed, smiling broadly at Blaine's red face. "Yeah, it was."

Smiling, Blaine ducked his head and unwound his arms from around Kurt's waist leaving his hands resting on Kurt's sides, his thumbs rubbing in soft circles. "So, we seem to be on the same page, we both thought it was-"

"Perfect." Kurt hummed, leaning into Blaine and resting his head on the other man's shoulder. He started to sway them to the tranquil music that was softly playing.

"Took the words right out of my mouth." Blaine whispered.

They danced in silence for a short while, reveling in their closeness. Blaine placed soft kisses on Kurt's head and Kurt placed his on the skin of Blaine's neck.

Blaine began to shiver in Kurt's arms and pressed his cold nose into Kurt's hair.

"We should go in." Kurt mumbled, pulling his head up from Blaine's shoulder.

"But I don't want to." Blaine pouted, placing his poor red nose at the warm skin of Kurt's neck.

"Blaine!" Kurt squeaked, laughing when Blaine started to give feather light kisses to his neck. "Blaine, come on- this is not fair!" Kurt whimpered under Blaine's onslaught, but felt more than a bit disappointed when the British man obliged and pulled away to stare into Kurt's eyes.

Sighing, Kurt looked at Blaine's reddened face and he knew that the colour was from the cold. "We should really go in." Kurt paused, reaching up a hand to tap at Blaine's nose. "Your poor nose is frozen."

Blaine shrugged, as he pulled Kurt further into his arms. "I've lived through worse." He stated simply and kissed the tip of Kurt's own red nose.

"We both have." Kurt agreed. "But we don't have to live like that anymore. The war's over, remember?"

"So I've heard." Blaine smirked, running his hands up and down Kurt's sides.

"Come on." Kurt smiled, grabbing Blaine's cold hands in his own to gently pull Blaine towards the glass doors. But Blaine dug in his heels and stayed rooted to the spot, leaving Kurt completely out of his arms, feeling the harsh chill for the first time.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, his eyebrow quirked in question, and wrapped Blaine's jacket closer around his shoulders to block out the cold.

"Please tell me this isn't a dream." Blaine whispered, looking at Kurt with his big hazel eyes so full of emotion that Kurt felt like his heart would burst from the sudden vulnerability Blaine was showing him.

Shaking his head, Kurt slowly walked back towards the other man, lifting his hands to grasp Blaine's cheeks in his palms. "This is not a dream." Kurt assured him, as he leaned down to kiss away the sudden tears that escaped the other man's eyes. "And if it is- well, I must be dreaming too, because this is all I have been hoping for since I saw you in my shell hole-"

Blaine let out a wet laugh. "Your shell hole?"

"Yes, my shell hole." Kurt smiled, relieved to see a smile on Blaine's face again. "Do you need a minute?" Kurt asked, rubbing his thumb over the tear tracks on Blaine's cheeks.

"No, I'm fine. It's just been a long, emotional day." Blaine laughed, pressing a chaste kiss on Kurt's lips. "Nothing a good sleep won't fix."

"Come on then, let's get you home." Kurt smiled, grabbing Blaine's bigger hand in his and pulling him back into the reception hall and out of the cold February wind.

* * *

The shock of warm air hitting his cold cheeks when they stepped back into the building was welcome and feeling began to make its way back into Kurt's cold skin. Kurt kept a strong hold on Blaine's chilled hand as they weaved around tables to retrieve Kurt's cane and jacket.

Once there, Kurt reluctantly let go of Blaine's hand and shrugged off the dark gray jacket that Blaine draped over his shoulders to keep him warm. With a shy thank you, Kurt handed it back watching intently as Blaine put on the offered garment, a smile on his lips as he did.

Grudgingly, Kurt pulled his gaze away from Blaine, grabbing his slick black jacket off the back of a chair and slipping into it quickly. Adjusting the fabric comfortably over his shoulders he glanced around for his cane which he didn't see leaning anywhere.

The sound of Blaine clearing his throat brought Kurt's attention to the other man who was holding out Kurt's cane. "Looking for this?" Blaine smiled charmingly.

Nodding, Kurt quickly fastened the buttons on his jacket, and reached for his cane brushing his fingers against Blaine's in silent thanks.

A large grin spread across Blaine's face as he rubbed at the back of his neck, something Kurt was starting to notice was a nervous tick that the British man had. "So, shall we go?" Blaine asked, glancing at Kurt.

"Yeah." Kurt agreed with a shy smile. "I should let someone know we are leaving though-" Kurt thought aloud, looking around the warm room for the balding head of his father.

With a nod of his curly head, Blaine offered his arm to Kurt, which Kurt regretfully ignored.

The deflated look on Blaine's face made Kurt's heart ache, and he felt that he needed to remedy this immediately. Placing his hand on Blaine's bicep, Kurt drew striking hazel eyes to look into his own. "Trust me when I say this." Kurt began, his voice a whisper for only Blaine's ears. "I wish more than anything to be on your arm, but- well not everyone understands. And I don't know what it is like in England but here in Germany it's illegal, homosexuality I mean- I just don't trust everyone in this room-"

"Kurt." Blaine interrupted, a pained smile on his face. "I understand. I wish I didn't but I do understand, it's the same in England." He shrugged. "I just wish we could be as affectionate as every other couple in this room..."

"So do I." Kurt sighed. "But life just isn't fair."

The two men stood in a sober silence for a few minutes lost in their thoughts, Blaine fidgeting with his cuffs again while Kurt held his cane in a painful grip.

"You know-" Blaine whispered, drawing Kurt's gaze back to Blaine's handsome face as he grabbed Kurt's free hand. "Life may not be fair, but we could still try to make the best of it at least." He smiled. "Because nothing they can do is going to make me stop feeling the way I do for you."

Kurt felt like his face would break from how much he was smiling. He looked around the room for a moment and when he was satisfied that no one was looking in their direction, Kurt gave a puzzled looking Blaine a chaste kiss on his lips. "Me too." Kurt whispered, pulling back slightly to see Blaine looking speechless. "Come on, let's get going. I'm sick of having you near me but not being able to do anything about it."

Blaine's mouth dropped open for a moment in shock, but once the words sunk in he grinned like a feral cat. "Yeah, I think we should head back to your place- I mean as long as your hospitality still stands." He added quickly, looking into Kurt's eyes pleadingly.

Chuckling Kurt rolled his eyes leaning forward a bit so that his lips were mere inches from Blaine's. "Of course you are staying with me. I would be utterly upset if you didn't." Kurt pouted, suddenly encouraged from the returning smile on Blaine's handsome face. "But you might want to lose that smile while I talk to my father." Kurt mentioned, grinning as Blaine cocked his head in question, his smile never wavering. "You look like you are about to devour me, and I'm sure that won't get you into my father's good graces."

The other man's smile fell a bit and was replaced with a respectful grin that was so charming Kurt was sure his father would know Kurt was in good hands. Reluctantly, Kurt moved away from Blaine glancing around the room for his father. Catching a glance of a balding head, Kurt led them through the crowd to where his father was sitting.

Kurt watched in amusement as Burt threw his head back to laugh at something that was said at the table he was sitting at. The older man rubbed at his eyes, looking around the room still chuckling, at least until his eyes landed on Kurt's hand clutching Blaine's.

"Your father is going to kill me, isn't he?" Blaine groaned, trying to struggle out of Kurt's hold, which Kurt only tightened out of his own nervousness.

"No he won't kill you-" Kurt said, pausing as he glanced at the man beside him. "Well, at least not now. There are too many witnesses." He joked, noticing the man beside him pale a bit. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes Kurt moved the two of them closer to his father, who by this time was once again engrossed in the conversation around him.

Pausing for a moment behind his father, Kurt listened to the conversation, hearing the men talking about the recent events in the country with the communist worker's councils demonstrating all over Germany, and taking over important political buildings. Waiting politely for a lull in the conversation, Kurt felt Blaine fidgeting beside him, shuffling on his feet and pulling his hand away.

Pitying the other man, whose nerves were becoming very noticeable Kurt interrupted the conversation.

"_Dad_." Kurt said quietly, forcing the attention of all the men on him.

"_Hey Kid._" Burt smiled, making quick introductions to the few faces that Kurt didn't recognize.

"_I'm sorry to interrupt._" Kurt smiled in apology to everyone, then turned to his father. "_But I wanted to let you know that I'm heading home._"

"Why?" Burt asked suddenly talking in English, his eyes narrowing as they turned to Blaine.

"Because my leg is sore." Kurt sighed, growing frustrated.

"Is he going home with you?" Burt snipped, nodding to Blaine.

Kurt glared at his father who smiled at Blaine's unease. "Yes, Dad, Blaine is coming home with me." Kurt kept going ignoring his father's sudden protests. "And no, he is not staying at a hotel because the poor man has been traveling for days, and he deserves to be in a bed that isn't disgusting-"

"If your father doesn't want me in his home, I'll find a hotel-" Blaine cut in, looking straight at Burt. "I don't mean to impose, sir."

Burt waved his hand at Blaine and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "It's fine son. You can stay with us for the time being." His smile turned fond as he looked over to Kurt. "Kurt has always been a good judge of character. And truthfully, if his leg is bothering him he will need more help than he is willing to admit to make it back to the house. So, make sure my son gets home in one piece."

"Of course, sir." Blaine assured the older man, seeming proud that he had a request from Burt. "I'll take good care of him." Rolling his eyes, Kurt couldn't help but smirk a bit at the double meaning of Blaine's words.

"Well, we better get going then, before my leg seizes up completely." Kurt said, hoping the slight blush on his cheeks could be mistaken for pain. But when his leg started to throb suddenly he knew that they really did have to leave soon before his words became reality.

"Take the main roads." Burt advised. "You never know what might happen anymore with all of this crazy stuff happening lately."

"We will, Dad." Kurt smiled, bidding a quick goodbye to his father's friends then led Blaine towards their coats.

* * *

The walk back to the house was quiet and uneventful as the two men walked as briskly as they could towards the Hummel home, their shoulders brushing the entire time.

Once inside, the two men quickly discarded their coats and shoes at the door before running up the stairs to Kurt's bedroom, leaving Kurt's cane behind in the entranceway.

They were laughing breathlessly. Kurt stumbled a number of times as his leg was becoming unbearably sore, but Blaine's strong arms caught him around the waist each time with a kiss to back of his neck, which sent shivers down Kurt's spine.

When they reached the landing at the top of the stairs, Kurt grabbed at Blaine's hand tugging the other man towards his room their nervous giggles continuing when Blaine shut the door behind them.

The two men stood awkwardly for a few moments, their eyes scanning one another. Kurt watched as Blaine leaned against the door, his one hand resting on the knob, while his other hung by his side. Blaine's eyes scanned the room looking around for god only knew what, but Kurt was glad when Blaine's gaze always strayed back to him, where Blaine would look him up and down.

Growing impatient, Kurt plucked up the last of his courage. Taking a calming breath, Kurt walked back towards Blaine, his eyes never wavering from the other man. When he was standing right in front of him, Kurt leaned in and pressed a heated kiss to Blaine's lips.

For a moment Blaine didn't respond, making Kurt feel like he had done something wrong again but Blaine didn't stay frozen long enough for Kurt to pull away. He leaned into the kiss with gusto grabbing at Kurt's hips to pull their bodies closer, causing a slight yelp from Kurt at the sudden movement. Kurt could feel his knees grow weak. Their mouths worked in a steady rhythm that was quickly becoming something Kurt knew he would crave for the rest of his life.

The sudden notion of this being perfect hit Kurt like a freight train. This was what he was always waiting for; this sudden and wonderful connection with another person that could make him swoon, yet made him feel completely whole and content. This scared him. He hardly knew the man that his mouth was glued to but he knew that Blaine was the type of man he had dreamed of since he had figured out that he was gay. What scared him most was the prospect of Blaine leaving him. Kurt knew he was falling fast; whether he knew anything about him or not, he just knew that he wanted to be with him for whatever time he had. So he let his thoughts go for the time being and just relished in the kiss.

Noticing Kurt's enthusiasm, Blaine grew more encouraged to take things further and he licked at Kurt's lips, making Kurt whimper and open his mouth for Blaine. God, if Kurt thought his legs were going to give out before, well, now he was sure of it. He grabbed at Blaine's suit jacket ignoring the fact he was creating wrinkles to ensure that he would stay upright and Blaine willingly took Kurt's weight.

Blaine's sure movements of his tongue sent chills through Kurt's body. It was such an intimate yet intrusive gesture, that Kurt was grateful that Blaine seemed to know what he was doing, because he sure as hell had no idea. But Blaine didn't seem to complain as Kurt followed his lead. Oh no, Blaine seemed quite thrilled at what Kurt was doing with his tongue if the stifled moans coming from his mouth were any indication.

Reluctantly, Kurt pulled away for air, noticing that Blaine was breathing as heavily as he was. Blaine smiled, attempting to pull Kurt in closer so that their chests were flush with one another. "Well, that was- well, I was going to say nice, but that just doesn't seem to cut it." Blaine chuckled, as he slowly led them in a swaying motion towards Kurt's bed.

"Fantastic. I think the word you're looking for is fantastic." Kurt smiled, placing a chaste kiss on Blaine's lips, as he let Blaine move them further into the room.

Blaine shook his head. "Still doesn't seem like a strong enough word to describe this feeling."

"Perfect?" Kurt asked shyly. His nerves suddenly shot to the surface as the back of his knees hit the mattress.

Blaine paused and thought for a moment. When a radiant smile came across his face Kurt felt all of his nerves melt away. He couldn't believe that he had, for even a split second had doubts about not being safe with this man.

"Perfect, is exactly the word I was looking for." Blaine chuckled, kissing Kurt's cheek, and dipping Kurt backwards so they could fall on the bed.

When Blaine's whole body settled on top of him, Kurt couldn't help the little gasp that escaped him when he felt the beginnings of Blaine's arousal against his hip. It was a surprise to Kurt that he was the cause of such a reaction from the other man. It wasn't like he was experienced at the art of kissing or like he was really that special, but Blaine's body seemed to think that Kurt was, well attractive and arousing in some way and Kurt would take it as it came. A whimper escaped Kurt's mouth as Blaine moved his body forward slightly, causing friction on Kurt's crotch, making his eyes roll back in his head.

Blaine mumbled inaudibly against Kurt's neck, placing soft kisses against the sensitive flesh there as he moved off of him, adjusting his body above Kurt's so only their chests and Blaine's lips attached to Kurt's neck were the only parts touching, much to his dismay. But that didn't last long as Blaine's mouth started to explore the expanse of his neck.

Letting out a moan, Kurt leaned his head to the side to let Blaine have full access to the pale skin of his neck. The British man's mouth was talented, to say the least; he worked between licking and nipping lightly at the sensitive skin.

Kurt loved the feeling of being worshiped and the pure euphoria he was feeling and he began to get lightheaded from the blood rushing south.

Kurt froze, his eyes flying open as the situation dawned on him. He was hard, and obviously so was Blaine since he began to rut against Kurt's inner thigh. This was all new and frightening to him, but dear god, he didn't want Blaine to stop what he was doing. He never wanted him to stop but some part of his brain that was being pushed back knew that was unrealistic and horribly unproductive.

Moving lower, Blaine's lips dusted lightly against his skin. So light that Kurt had to hold in a laugh. Of course, Blaine took the slight sound that came from Kurt as an oh-my-god-do-that-again noise, a task that he vigorously accepted. Fighting the urge to laugh, Kurt squirmed a bit under Blaine's attention, hoping that his movements would somehow dislodge Blaine from the ticklish spot. But Kurt had no such luck; instead Blaine kept going, nipping at the sensitive spot, while Kurt moaned embarrassingly when his achingly hard cock rubbed against Blaine's hip.

Blaine's hand was starting to move down, dragging across his clothed chest and starting to fumble with the buttons of Kurt's dress shirt. A strangled groan escaped Blaine, as he finally moved his kisses towards Kurt's Adam's apple and worked to loosen the tie around Kurt's neck.

Blaine jerked his hips again, but this time the movement was more forceful and needy, causing Kurt to go rigid under Blaine.

Kurt felt his heart speed up as panic coursed through his body, his mind was finally catching up with what was happening in the fog of pleasure and it was slightly terrifying. As much as he wanted to be as close as possible to Blaine, he couldn't. Not now, soon hopefully, but not now. For one he hardly knew anything about the man and for another he was so not ready for this step. He wanted to get to know Blaine, fall in love, go on a date at least before falling between the covers with the same man that tried to kill him. It was the least he should do before he had sex with him; Kurt had some morals for god's sake.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked quietly, his voice husky yet concerned, breaking Kurt from his frantic thoughts. "Are you alright?" He continued while he brushed callused fingers across Kurt's neck soothingly, shifting his body so that he was no longer pressing into Kurt.

Nodding, Kurt looked into Blaine's kind hazel eyes. "I'm sorry." Kurt mumbled, turning his head away from Blaine's intense stare to look at the illuminated lamp post outside his window, fighting back the hint of tears prickling at the back of his eyes.

"Hey." Blaine cooed, gently moving Kurt's face to look back at him. His face softened as Kurt was sure he saw his watery eyes. "Oh, Kurt." Blaine said, placing gentle kisses on Kurt's forehead. "What's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry." Kurt sniffled, cursing himself quietly for the tears that were managing to escape. "I'm just- I- We know nothing about each other, and here we are in my bed-"

"Oh, god. I went too far, didn't I?" Blaine asked soberly and climbed off of Kurt, sitting cross legged with his back now to Kurt. Groaning, Blaine dropped his face in his hands, mumbling under his breath about being a horrible person.

Leaning on one elbow Kurt hesitantly put a hand on the other man's shoulder. "It's not-"

"I am such a fucking git!" Blaine exclaimed, turning to look at Kurt, the hint of angry tears in his eyes. "I can't believe I pushed you like that."

Kurt sat stunned and a little confused. "Okay, first off, Blaine, calm down." Kurt smiled as he leaned in to place a sweet kiss on Blaine's lips. "None of this is your fault. It's just- I think we are going a little too fast with all of this. And, of course, it dawned on me at the worst time ever." He mumbled the last part, earning the barest hint of a smile from Blaine.

"But I did push you too far-"

"No. No, Blaine, you didn't. It's just that all of this is new to me, and I honestly think that a part of me is ready for everything with you. But the rational side of my brain is telling me that we need to slow down a bit, even though I really wish we wouldn't." Kurt paused, looking intently at Blaine, hoping that the other man understood to some extent.

Smiling, Blaine pulled Kurt in for a kiss. "The rational part of your brain is probably right."

"That's what I was dreading." Kurt pouted, smiling as he heard Blaine chuckle. "I'm sorry, I ruined an intimate moment."

"Hey, if I did nothing wrong then you sure as hell didn't." Blaine assured him and pulled Kurt into a hug. "You are completely right, we know nothing about each other and we are taking this a little fast. So, you have nothing to worry about."

Nodding, Kurt snuggled into Blaine's warm embrace brushing his nose in the crook of Blaine's neck, inhaling Blaine's unique scent. Kurt was sure he would never really understand why this man was so understanding and insanely kind to him when all Kurt was doing was causing the man unbelievable amounts of stress and sexual frustration.

With a content sigh Kurt thought back to his earlier confusion. "Blaine?" Kurt asked, smiling as the other man hummed and pulled him in tighter. "What does git mean?" The foreign word feeling odd on his tongue.

"Oh, umm, well, it means an idiot."

Reaching out to place both hands on Blaine's cheeks, Kurt pulled his head down for a forceful kiss. "You are not an idiot." Kurt said firmly, searching Blaine's eyes for any indication that he thought otherwise. "I mean, how on earth could you have known that I have about as much sexual experience as a baby penguin?"

"A baby penguin?" Blaine laughed, raising a triangular eyebrow.

"Oh, shut up." Kurt said, pushing Blaine's face away as he struggled out of Blaine's grasp. A small smile on his face as Blaine held him tighter, placing kisses to any piece of skin he could reach.

Giving up on trying to escape from Blaine's hold, Kurt leaned his back against the other man's chest. They sat like that for a few minutes, Kurt loving the sound and feel of Blaine breathing next to him.

"So, what do you mean like a baby penguin?" Blaine asked quietly, as he shuffled them so his back was resting against the wall.

"I'm horribly inexperienced in anything sexual." Kurt flushed, sure that Blaine could feel the heat coming from his skin. "I mean my first and only kiss with a boy was with Noah." Kurt continued not noticing how Blaine froze.

"Wait. Your first kiss was with your sister's husband?" Blaine asked his voice slightly higher than usual.

Kurt rolled his eyes, twisting his neck so he could look at Blaine, who looked completely shocked. "Oh, calm down, it was before Lena and Noah were together. So, you have nothing to worry about."

"What happened?" Blaine asked curiously.

Kurt shrugged, resting his head on Blaine's shoulder. "It wasn't anything special if that's what you are asking."

"We need to get to know each other better, you said so yourself." Blaine said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Of course you are going to use that against me now, aren't you?" Kurt mumbled, lacing his fingers into Blaine's.

"Naturally." Blaine chuckled, placing a kiss on the top of Kurt's head.

Kurt sighed, smiling as he retold the story. "Dad had a new boy working at the shop. He was a year or two older than Noah and I and, well, he was rather handsome. I started to just follow him around like a lovesick puppy. Started to have daydreams about him, about him and I having a family, growing old together, those kind of thoughts and it was then that I really realized that all those 'odd' feelings I was having towards men before was just who I was. So, I told Dad and he thought nothing of it. He just said that he knew I was always different and that I couldn't tell anyone I didn't trust completely about me being gay.

"I eventually told Noah. I trust him with my life, I always have. He looks out for me as much as I look out for him; and he asked me how I knew I was gay. And I wasn't entirely sure so he suggested that we kiss, that way I would know I was gay. So, we did."

"And did that prove to you, you were gay?" Blaine asked.

"It proved to Noah I was gay." Kurt laughed. "I always knew, but I guess it reaffirmed it for me. So, what about you?" Kurt asked, glancing up at Blaine.

"Oh, no. This is not the time for us to be having that kind of story." Blaine says, his voice going a bit panicked.

"And why not?" Kurt jested, hoping that he could convince the other man for a story.

"Because it's not the happiest of stories."

Kurt stopped, his mind racing to the other times Blaine had said similar words earlier that night. "Why is it you never really seem to have happy stories?" Kurt asked sadly, tracing his thumb over the skin on Blaine's hand.

"Not all of them." Blaine shrugged, maneuvering a bit to kiss Kurt's cheek. "Just some of the major moments in my life it seems."

Frowning, Kurt placed his cheek against Blaine's. "Well, that's not fair."

"It's not." Blaine agreed. "But there is one recent major moment in my life that has been most enjoyable."

"And what would that be?" Kurt asked, suddenly intrigued.

"Well, one was when you fell into my shell hole-"

"Oh no, you don't. It was my shell hole. I was in there first, you came in after me; which means it is MY shell hole you fell in." Kurt said sternly, smiling as he lightly hit Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine laughed, pulling his knees up to rest on either side of Kurt. "We will have to agree to disagree. Now, do you want to hear another happy moment in my life? Or shall we still keep arguing about whose shell hole it really was?"

Kurt shut up immediately, placing a quick kiss to Blaine's scruffy cheek as he waited patiently for the next story.

"It was when I finally decided I would come find you, and I did." Blaine said simply.

Kurt waited for a few moments, expecting Blaine to continue, but he didn't.

"You are the worst story teller!" Kurt exclaimed, chuckling as Blaine wore a smug grin.

"I'm a wonderful storyteller. I'm just better at writing things." Blaine pouted, jutting his lip out a bit.

"So I have read." Kurt smiled.

Blaine raised an eyebrow in question, looking very confused as to when Kurt could have had the time to read any of his work.

"When we were in my shell hole." Kurt explained, seeing recognition dawn on Blaine's face.

"That's right." Blaine smiled. "You did get to see some of it in my shell hole."

"Oh, for the love of god! It was MY shell hole and if you know what is good for you, you will learn to always agree with me." Kurt chuckled, pushing off of Blaine so he could get a better look at him.

Blaine was smiling sweetly, his eye's shining with laughter as he still held tightly to Kurt's hand. "And where might you be going?" He asked.

"I was thinking we should get out of these clothes before they wrinkle. Especially you, since that suit is meant for a client." Kurt said, giving Blaine a chaste kiss and a wink.

Kurt moved stiffly off of the bed toward his pajamas that he had folded on his work chair. His back was facing Blaine when he took off his jacket he draped the garment on the back of the chair, he quickly untied his tie placing it on his jacket. Kurt froze as he went to start on the buttons of his dress shirt, and found the majority of them open, causing him to flush.

He turned to look at Blaine. "You did part of my job for me." He said as he gestured to his state of undress, his cheeks flaring in embarrassment.

Blaine smiled smugly and continued to lounge on Kurt's bed, a fixture that Kurt was planning on keeping there for a long time. "Do you have any pajamas?" He asked, since Blaine was not moving towards his duffel bag.

The British man looked like he was in thought for a moment, then he grinned. "I do, but I'm not sure where they are."

"I have another pair in my dresser, in the bottom drawer." Kurt informed him while he busied himself with getting into his own pair of gray cotton pajamas. He fought with himself to not look over his shoulder to watch Blaine undress and he was very proud of himself that he was able to resist. Only keeping his eyes on the task at hand, and hanging up his suit on one of the racks he had lined against the wall.

When he was done Kurt turned slowly to see if Blaine was dressed. He looked absolutely adorable and a little delectable in Kurt's dark blue cotton pajamas. Kurt fought to keep those thoughts at bay since he had been the one to ruin their earlier endeavors. The cloth was tight against his shoulders, snug at his butt, and a good three inches too long on the shorter man.

"So, I think I'm just not having any luck with clothes lately." Blaine joked, throwing his arms up in mock desperation.

"You look fine Blaine. The cuffs need to be rolled a bit but nothing too horrible." Kurt smiled as he took the suit Blaine was handing over to him to hang up.

Kurt quickly hung up the garment, working out the larger wrinkles and making a mental note that he would have to clean the suit before he gave it to Joshua's mother.

When he was finished he turned on his heal and froze at the sight in front of him. Blaine was sitting on the edge of the bed, one foot on the floor and the other on the mattress as he rolled the cuffs of the navy pants. It was something out of one of Kurt's daydreams; Blaine looked like he belonged here resting on his bed, lost in his thoughts, looking so charming. Blaine looked up when he had finished with the cuffs a content smile on his face as he locked eyes on Kurt.

He climbed back into the bed settling against the pillows. "You coming?" Blaine asked and opened his arms in invitation, before lowering the flame in the kerosene lamp on Kurt's night table.

Kurt nodded and limped over to the bed, crawling up the green sheets and curling into Blaine's warm arms. When Kurt was settled Blaine reached over to the lamp and brought them into darkness.

"It's starting to get a bit chilly." Blaine mentioned and tugged Kurt closer to warm himself.

"I could boil some water for the hot water bottles." Kurt said as he made to move, but was held back by Blaine's arms.

"No need, we'll just climb under the covers and keep each other warm." He smiled shuffling the two of them so that they could get under the covers.

Once they were settled Kurt snuggled close to Blaine lying on his side. "So, I should tell you something before I forget."

Blaine nodded as he placed a hand on Kurt's hip, rubbing soft calming circles onto his side.

"My family doesn't know about how we meet." Kurt said quietly, watching Blaine for a reaction.

"That doesn't seem like such a horrible thing."

"I just don't know how to explain all of this to them-"

"We'll figure it out together." Blaine smiled, pulling Kurt in close so that their chests were touching and Kurt's head was pillowed on his shoulder.

With a sigh of relief, Kurt nodded; it was nice to know that he was no longer alone and that someone was there to help him explain all of what happened. Kurt was sure his family would be completely surprised and maybe a little hostile to Blaine once they knew all of the details but Kurt knew that with Blaine by his side he could handle almost anything. But at this moment, he couldn't care less about explaining himself to his family because he was in the warm embrace of a handsome man who cared about him. And he sure as hell wasn't going to let his family somehow ruin his budding relationship.

Letting out a contented sigh, Kurt snuggled into Blaine's embrace listening to the calming and steady beat of his heart. Kurt muffled a yawn and, feeling utterly content, let the sound of Blaine's heart lull him to sleep.

"G'night Kurt." Blaine whispered into the darkness.

"Night." Kurt mumbled, sleep already taking him into the best rest he had ever had since before the war.


	15. Chapter 14

Hello everyone! Well, sorry again for the long wait, but things at school are crazy.

Here is the next chapter. It's a bit of filler but, hey, it's better than nothing. We plan for things to pick up in the next few with some more plot, and since we know you all are only in it for the smut, we will be earning our rating sooner than you think.

Also, huge thanks should go out to our amazing Beta for putting up with our crap, keeping us in line and helping us figure everything out. Love you, Becks! (Love you too. ~Beta)

Okay enough of us, please read, review and bug us on tumblr! Hope you all enjoy a Blaine centric chapter!

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**Remember italicised dialogue is German, regular is English.**

* * *

**February 23nd, 1919 - Düsseldorf, Germany**

**Blaine**

Blaine woke early in the morning, just as the light of dawn started to break through the flimsy, white curtains that covered the only window in the room. For a few blissful moments he lay there, blinking lazily at the specks of dust that floated along the cool air currents that drifted in through the small gap between the window and the window sill. His moment of peace was broken by the wide yawn that escaped Blaine as he stretched upwards and outwards, humming pleasantly at the tug deep within the muscles that ran alongside his spine. He couldn't help but wiggle a little deeper into the comfortable warmth provided by the bed, a lethargic grin crossing his haggard face. Despite the fact that last night had been the best sleep Blaine had enjoyed in a very long time, his complexion, hidden underneath his scraggly beard, was still pale and gaunt.

If it wasn't for the constant pressure being exerted on his bladder, Blaine would have easily hunkered himself back down in the nest of blankets for a few more hours of much needed rest. Instead, with another wide yawn, Blaine struggled to sit up, hindered by the borrowed pajama top which, with any movement, would pull taunt across his chest and shoulders, thwarting any attempt to reach out and get his arms under himself. To top it off, there was something holding his legs down, he could feel the warm presence through the sheet which separated them, he figured it was most likely Kurt's leg judging by the way in which the offenders foot had curled itself around Blaine's calves, effectively holding them in place.

With a sigh Blaine looked over at Kurt. He was still sleeping soundly, half his face squished into the pillow and Blaine couldn't help but smile. The pillow had successfully pushed all of Kurt's hair away from the downside of his head; it was now standing up in all directions, and the considerable amount of gel he had in his hair the night before that hadn't been washed out was holding everything in place. If Kurt looked this bad Blaine shuddered to think what a picture he posed. Reaching out hesitantly, Blaine tried to brush away a few strands that had decided to curl backwards into Kurt's angelic face.

The other man didn't even stir and Blaine stopped himself from leaning over and kissing him again. Instead Blaine pulled back and started working on a plan which would render him free, yet keep Kurt from waking up. It was hard considering Kurt was sprawled out everywhere at once; one arm was tucked carefully under the pillow while the other rested next to Blaine's hip, his left leg bent at the knee and heel dangling over the side of the bed, his right leg of course trapping Blaine.

Unfortunately, Blaine really, really had to pee by now. Eventually, he'd been able to twist and slip his legs from under Kurt's before practically tumbling out of the bed. He managed not to fall out with a loud crash, but his knees had made a dull _thunk_ before he had been able to catch himself with his hands. It wasn't loud but Blaine found himself stilling momentarily to look back up over the edge of the bed at Kurt. Who was now looking right back at him with a tired expression on his sleep-wrinkled face.

"Do I even want to know what are you doing?" Kurt's voice was thick, his English words almost undecipherable underneath his heavy accent. He yawed cutely, snuggling deeper into his pillow, watching Blaine on the floor of his bedroom.

"I didn't want to wake you up. Go back to sleep." Blaine flushed, pushing himself up into a more respectable position. Kurt only nodded and closed his eyes, almost immediately falling back into a deep slumber.

Not wanting to wake him again, Blaine set out to quietly exit the room in search of the bathroom. It wasn't until he was quietly shutting the door behind himself that he realized that he had no clue where that was. He had never gotten the grand tour, seeing as he had unexpectedly dropped in on what was surely a busy day for this household. Standing lamely in the hallway, Blaine debated walking back into Kurt's room, waking him up, and asking where he could find the bathroom. He had thought about searching it out for himself, but stopped. There were so many ways in which that could go horribly wrong for him. What if he walked unknowingly into Quinn's room? Despite the fact that Blaine didn't feel any romantic attachment towards women doing something like that could seriously damage his gentlemanly reputation, and he really wanted this family to like him particularly after his not so attractive appearance at Lena's wedding. Or it could be even worse with Blaine walking willy-nilly into Kurt's father's room. He paled at that thought and made his decision to wake up Kurt. He was just as he was about to turn the knob under his hand when a soft cough startled him.

Blaine jumped back from the door, dropping his hand to his side. Old habits seem to die hard as he unconsciously grasped for the small pen knife he always kept in a trouser pocket. It wasn't there since Blaine was still in Kurt's pajamas and he was thankful because threatening the head of the household with an old rusty blade would undeniably crush that gentleman reputation.

Burt stood near the opening of the hallway looking severely unimpressed, his large arms crossing his wide chest as he stared Blaine down with those patronizing eyebrows furrowed. Blaine automatically felt the need to explain the situation. Why he was here standing outside of Kurt's room with a very determined look on his face, despite the fact that that's where he had previously spent the entire night.

"Uh… I was looking for the bathroom." He started, eyes never wavering from the glower that Mr. Hummel had pinned him down with. He could practically feel the cold clammy sweat breaking out across his forehead. Blaine, who had not only faced three years of unbelievable hell but a court-martial which had to determine whether he should have been shot or not, was scared of this large German man standing him front of him. If the German army had just been a bunch of pissed off looking Burt Hummels, Blaine would have just surrendered right then and there on the spot.

"That's not the bathroom." Burt said, his voice gruff and face unimpressed.

"Oh, yes, I know." Blaine added almost cheerfully before cursing silently at himself and his inability to think before opening his stupid mouth. Burt seemed to turn a distinctive shade of purplish red, his eyebrows lowering until all that Blaine could see of the other man's eyes was a small dark glint in the morning light.

"Is that right?" He growled out. His voice so deep and so low that Blaine almost didn't catch it and when he did he scrambled about for the right words which wouldn't get him killed on the spot.

"…Y-yeah." Blaine stuttered, raising his hands in a defensive gesture, taking another step back from the door. "I was about to ask Kurt where the bathroom was. I didn't want to wake anyone else up."

Burt starred him down in stony silence, clearly judging Blaine with those all-seeing, father eyes. Blaine gave him a sheepish smile, unconsciously jiggling his foot as his bladder screamed in pain. Eventually, Kurt's father took a step back, his expression never changing, but his colouring seemed to return to normal. Obviously he seemed to actually believe what Blaine was telling him as he jerked his head towards the direction of the stairs.

"Door on the right at the bottom of the stairs."

"…T-thank you" Blaine mumbled as he speed walked right past Burt, terrified for a brief moment that the man would reach out and grab his arm or something. He didn't and Blaine continued, taking the stairs two at a time until he was on the main house floor and scrambling through the door.

The family bathroom wasn't overly large but it was cleaner than any room Blaine had ever seen, almost sterile in appearance with gleaming white tiles. He really didn't stop to take in the sight; instead he shut the door as quickly as he could before finding the polished porcelain toilet and yanking down his pants.

Blaine sighed happily as he finished, reaching out and pushing down the handle before pulling up his pants, tucking himself back in, and turning to wash his hands. The sink was on pedestal, his mother had always wanted one, and a decently sized mirror attached to a cabinet had been drilled into the wall a few feet above the taps. Blaine stepped back in horror as he caught sight of his reflection. Hair was everywhere, spread out in all directions like it was on a deadly mission to take over territory. His face didn't look any better; Blaine's beard was starting to come in thick, hiding the hollows of his cheeks. He looked even more like a crazed vagabond, most fitting if he ever decided to go live in the wilds of northern Canada with the bears and moose.

A little water helped to control the bulk of frizz but there were still some issues of concern as Blaine opened the door and walked back into the kitchen. He would never be allowed to leave the house looking like this, maybe if Kurt was kind enough he would let Blaine take a bath in the large clawfoot tub he'd spotted in the corner of the bathroom.

He was surprised to find Kurt standing in the kitchen moving around, pulling small jars out of cupboards and trays of cold cuts from the icebox, gathering them up to move into the dining room.

Blaine's stomach grumbled loudly, practically announcing his presence to the rest of the world. Kurt looked up and smiled brightly. The warm winter sun was shining in through the long window across the living room, dancing off the brightly polished yellow tiles making the room feel even warmer, even if Blaine could feel the chill biting at his toes through the floor. Kurt looked absolutely adorable. He hadn't had a chance to clean himself up or likely even look at himself considering that all the hair on the right side of his head was sticking upwards and there were unmistakable red marks from where his face had been pressed against the seams of his pillows along with a hint of beard burn. As he stood there in the kitchen in his rumpled pajamas, Blaine was sure that there was nothing in this world more precious than Kurt Hummel.

"Well are you going to help me or are you going to stand there all morning?" Kurt joked as he moved back towards the counter. He pealed back the dish towel that had been sitting on the counter top. The German exposed the crusty tops of at least a dozen or so small bread rolls, each decorated with a mixture sunflower and sesame seeds.

"What do you want me to do?"

Kurt paused raising a finger so he could tap thoughtfully at his lower lip as his eyes drifted around the room before they fell onto the shiny metal pot sitting a couple of inches away from the sink.

"Can you boil water?" Kurt asked innocently, watching as Blaine's eyebrows disappeared under the mat of crunchy curls.

"Can I boil water? What kind of question is that, Kurt? I'm English." Blaine started, crossing his arms and playfully stomping down a foot as the other man snorted loudly, hiding his laughter behind a thin hand. Blaine couldn't stop the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips; instead he bit down on the inside of his cheeks and turned towards the kitchen sink.

"I'll have you know I make a damned good pot of tea." He continued, turning on the tap and letting the water run for a few brief moments. "It's so good in fact, people have praised it in sonnets all the way from London centre to edges of Brighton."

Kurt choked on his laughter, trying to stifle it with his hands as he pulled utensils out of their various drawers and piling them with the plates.

"You're nothing more than a big lair." He snorted, the utensils clinking against the plates. Blaine was full out grinning.

"I am absolutely not lying! I was always asked to make the tea for staff at the hospital, a great honour I tell you. No one else could do it. Now, where do you keep the kettle?" Okay, that was a little fib, considering Blaine was never directly asked to make the tea, rather he had been forced into making the tea every morning until the end of the war as punishment for the great gurney mishap of which he was ordered never to talk about.

Blaine stopped himself from rummaging through the drawers as he considered that to be a show of bad manners. Kurt was standing next to his elbow, reaching down and pulling out an old tin kettle that had seen better days. He didn't say anything as he handed it over, and for a moment Blaine feared that he might have gone too far with the teasing.

"Hey… Are you okay?" He asked whilst opening the kettle's lid and placing it under the stream of water. Kurt didn't look at him, instead he maneuvered his way around to the stove and twisted a nob, a rush of gas burst forth with a small whoosh. He then carefully lit a long match from the box he'd pulled from a drawer. Blaine placed the filled kettle on the stove top and turned off the taps. Kurt still didn't say anything, just paused momentarily to open his mouth and then clamp it shut with a crack of teeth.

"Kurt?" Blaine asked again, reaching out, grabbing the man's bicep and pulling him closer. Kurt allowed Blaine to tug him in; he rested his forehead against Blaine's shoulder and let out a loud sigh.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Still a little tired." He mumbled, Blaine didn't know what to do with his hands as his eyes darted to the hallway, afraid that Burt would round the corner at any moment and catch them. Kurt groaned and straightened his body out, looking down at Blaine, giving a crooked little smile that didn't seem to reach his eyes.

"Now who's the big lair?" Blaine mumbled, eyes fixated on the German as he wrapped a comforting arm around the other man's shoulders, giving him a playful shake. Kurt cracked a sad smile.

"I didn't know you were in the hospital." He practically whispered, rubbing his hands up his arms as if the room had suddenly become chilly. Blaine cocked an eyebrow in confusion before opening his mouth in realization. Kurt, who had been in military hospital as a patient was probably glumly reflecting on his time being shut up in that horrible place and thinking that Blaine, who had remarkably never been that injured, had been forced into such a hell hole.

"Oh! No, no, no, no! I wasn't-"

The clear clicking of high heeled footsteps sounded on the stairs and came down the hall at a quick pace. Before Blaine or Kurt could push away from each other Quinn stepped into view adjusting the wide white collar of her dark green dress. Once she rounded the corner into the kitchen she looked up, obviously spotting Blaine and Kurt standing there so close together that they could be sharing the same air.

"_Oh, am I interrupting something_?"

Kurt rolled his eyes as he pushed himself out of Blaine's grasp. Quinn stood there sweetly, smirking at Blaine who turned to watch Kurt turn off the stove and lift the kettle off the burner with the help of a balled up tea towel.

"_No, not at all. Your time is, as always, impeccable_." Kurt ground out, voice heavily laced with sarcasm, as he poured the boiling water into the shiny metal coffee maker that Blaine had seen him looking at earlier. Even if Blaine couldn't understand a word of the conversation, he could feel the heavy tension that was brewing. It felt as if a large invisible game of tug-of-war was happening even though Kurt was still preparing breakfast and Quinn was sliding her thick winter jacket on.

"_Oh, now, now Kurt._" Quinn joked, shoving her hands into those expensive looking leather gloves. "_Everything about me is impeccable!"_

Blaine watched Kurt crack a small smile while collecting a few mugs from the iron hooks that had been drilled through the tiled back splash. He rushed over and grabbed them out of the German man's hands, surprising both Kurt and Quinn, who watched him queerly as he gathered up the plates and utensils and moved them into the dining room. Blaine was just glad to be out of the way of their little power struggle as he began to set the table.

"_Looks like you got yourself a nice little house husband, there. I'm a little jealous._" Kurt sputtered and flushed, almost dropping the platter of rolls much to Quinn's delight as she flounced about clearly the definite winner of whatever the hell was going on.

"_Well, I'm off to do a little shopping. Don't worry, I'll pick something up for breakfast, but I'll be home in time for lunch_." Kurt looked as if he was about to say something, or at least offer a roll but Quinn just gave him a bright smile and clicked her heels. She spun around, hoisting her delicate shoulder bag and shooting Blaine a cheeky wink before leaving out the front door and clambering down the wooden stairs.

A little noise of disbelief left Kurt at the absurdity of the entire interaction. Blaine watched him curiously, wishing that the German might give him a little insight to whatever just happened but not outright asking, because that would be rude.

"Blaine, do you think you could open those jars?"

Obviously, Blaine was going to be left in the dark. He didn't say anything about it as he padded his way to where those five small jars Kurt had pulled out earlier were sitting. The first four lids were easy to remove, just a quick twist and pop, then delicious preserves ready to be served. The last one however was a little bit of a pain. Blaine pulled and twisted until he feared that he might split the seams of his borrow pajama top.

"Sorry, Kurt. I don't think I can get this one."

"Uh?" Blaine watched as Kurt quickly looked up from where he was staring intently at Blaine's chest, a small noise falling from the German man's slack mouth as he flushed and tried to pretend that he hadn't been ogling. Blaine couldn't help but feel chuffed at the realization that Kurt had been looking and liking. Blaine knew he was attractive enough. He was never in wanting of dance partner at old town hall dances, and the older nurses would tell him he was 'dear' and 'cute' but maybe that was because he had a Rory shaped tumor attached to his hip.

"Do you think you can get it?" He asked, watching Kurt scramble to grab the jar. He was equally unlucky in getting it to open. Blaine just shrugged and grabbed the other four jars, placing them on the kitchen table.

"Looks like we might have to go without." He stated walking back to where Kurt was still struggling. The other man was cursing softly in German at the jar, as if it would understand and magically decide to pop off its lid.

"We can't, its blackberry jam. That's my father's favourite."

Blaine yanked the jar out of Kurt's hand and started struggling with the damned thing, not caring that he might rip Kurt's shirt or if it might be considered improper to wave the thing around yelling colourful obscenities. Kurt was stood snickering loudly by his side.

"Stop it, you damn bloody thing. You are not going to ruin this for me! I need him to like me!" The jar didn't open. It lay there in Blaine's sweaty palm, mockingly. Kurt was almost laughing at Blaine, his face tinged pink and his lips pulled wide.

"Come on, you. I think I know someone who can help." He reached out and grabbed Blaine's forearm, leading him toward the front door. They walked silently down the stairs, Blaine a little scared that the old widow who lived on the main level would walk out and see him looking like this. Kurt maneuvered them down a second flight of stairs and towards another large wooden door that led to what Blaine could only assume was the basement apartment.

Noah answered on the third knock. He was bare chested and yawning into his fist, wearing nothing but a wrinkled sheet pulled loosely around his waist. When he spotted Blaine standing on his door step in a pair of Kurt's pajamas holding a small jelly jar, he didn't seem impressed. He didn't say anything for what felt like a very long time; instead he hiked up his sheet, flashing a sliver of lean thigh and shot Blaine a very intimidating glower. Truth be told, Blaine wasn't very afraid considering Noah looked more sleep rumpled then Blaine and Kurt combined.

"_You do know I just got married, right?" _

The noise that sputtered out of Kurt was both startling and amusing. Blaine watched the German basically have a mental breakdown, pressing his palms against his ears and making loud humming noises while closing his eyes and refusing to look at Noah.

"_God, please, Noah! That's my sister!" _He hissed. Blaine didn't know what was going on but figured being invisible was the best course.

"_Oh, hey Kurt, I didn't see you there_." Noah said, giving Kurt a sheepish smile as he tugged his sheet up a little higher. Kurt stopped acting immaturely, glaring over at his now brother-in-law.

"_Noah. Just open the damn jar_."

Noah looked away from Kurt to stare down at Blaine who tried his best not to fidget under that dark look he was receiving. Noah didn't say anything to him as he reached out and grabbed the jar. Juggling his sheet in an attempt to keep from exposing himself to the two men, Noah manhandled the jar, twisting the top off with ease.

"_What time is breakfast?"_ He asked, smirking at Blaine while he shoved the open jar back into his hands. Kurt didn't stop glaring as he grabbed at the back of Blaine's shirt, pulling him back up the stairs.

"_You're not invited. Go get your wife to make you something!"_ He called over his shoulder.

* * *

Breakfast was a family affair. Anna, half asleep and still dressed in her nightgown and house coat was sitting in her chair when the boys returned, buttering a roll and shoving a few cuts of ham onto her plate. Burt came out of his room a few minutes later, fully dressed and looking ready to head off to work. He filled a mug with hot coffee and sat at the head of the table. He sipped away while eyeing Blaine suspiciously. Lena and Noah joined them soon after, laughing and holding hands, and much to everyone's pleasure, they were both fully dressed.

"_No._" Kurt said sharply, point a thin finger at the front door while glaring at Noah. Lena narrowed her eyes and placed her small hands on her hips. Noah smiled and sat down next to Burt. He started to make small talk while grabbing a few rolls.

"_You can't make us leave, Kurt. This is still my home and he is my husband." _She reprimanded. Kurt glared but allowed her sit down and start placing rolls and small chunks of meat on her plate. He took a seat at the end of the table, between his sister and Blaine.

Blaine smiled at him, accepting the mug of steaming coffee that was being offered.

"Thanks." He mumbled, taking that first sip and inhaling the bitter fragrance with a deep sigh. Kurt started pulling rolls off the tray, setting them down on Blaine's plate before fixing his own.

"Kurt, where is the coffee?" Lena was holding her mug, a predominant chip along the rim. Blaine noticed Lena slipped into English, for his own benefit he assumed. Kurt smirked into his coffee cup.

"Well, it is still your house. Get it yourself." Lena shot her brother a sour look as she pushed away from the table, snatching up her mug. Noah handed her his as well and she sighed, mumbling under her breath, as she filled both cups.

"So, Herr Blaine, did you sleep okay?" Anna yawned, brushing crumbs off the front of her house coat. Blaine couldn't help but smile down at the adorable girl sitting on his left.

"Very well, thank you." Blaine replied. Anna smiled to herself nodding and taking a long sip from the milk that Kurt had poured for her earlier. Burt looked up from his blackberry smothered roll and pinned Blaine down with a look; Noah, who was sitting next to the head of the household, shot Blaine a smirk seemingly happy with Burt's obvious dislike.

"So, Blaine, what are your plans for today?" He asked, placing his coffee cup down. Blaine choked on a slice of ham but luckily Kurt was there patting his back as he coughed and tried not to flail too much. Kurt took over, looking up at his dad and smiling.

"Well, I was thinking that if Blaine didn't have anything too pressing I would take him out to see the town." Blaine flushed; hoping no one would notice or would think that maybe it was from his little episode. Kurt smiled over at Blaine, hopeful that he would agree.

"I would like that." He answered, trying not to smile too widely. Burt coughed into his hand, pushing his chair back from the table and standing up. He mucked around, piling his dishes on top of each other before carrying them over to the sink. Noah was close behind, shoving the last bit of roll into his mouth before getting up and following suit. Swallowing the last of his food, he bent down and kissed his wife on her cheek.

"_Lena, you wash up the dishes_." Burt calls from the kitchen.

Blaine watched as the girl flushed darkly and sputtered, pushing back her chair with her mouth open looking about ready to complain. Kurt was pushing himself up about ready to say something, most likely witty and snarky, at his younger sister but was interrupted by their father.

"_Lena."_ Burt's voice was stern. "_Kurt made breakfast._"

It seemed that was the end of discussion as Burt, followed by Noah, walked towards the door and threw on their coats.

After they were gone, Anna raced upstairs to get dressed, blathering on about going down stairs and playing with her friend Sara while Lena sighed and started filling the sink with soapy warm water. Kurt seemed to take pity on his sister and was starting to collect dirty dishes, carrying them over to where she was tying an apron around her waist. Blaine tried to help but Lena sent him away with a smile, declaring that because he was a guest he got a free pass. Still, Blaine felt pretty useless standing off to the side watching the two Hummel siblings.

"Hey Kurt, do you think that I might be able to have a bath?" Blaine asked.

"Oh, please, do…your…uh…hair." Kurt gestured his hands above his head before dropping them with a sheepish look as if realizing that he might have been a little rude. Blaine just laughed lightly, rubbing at the course facial hair covering his jaw.

"Yeah, I figure I could shave the beard, too. Despite the fact I'm momentarily depending on the kindness of others, I think that I shouldn't look so homeless."

Both Kurt and Lena laughed, the sound of dishes clacking against each other in the soapy water drowning out all other noises. Kurt was standing next to his sister holding a towel and drying the plates she passed him. It was all very domestic.

"That might help." Kurt joked, setting down a clean dish. "But don't take too long, I still need to get ready too."

Blaine grinned and padded his way towards the bathroom, pausing in the door way. "Oh, I don't know, that's a pretty good look for you."

* * *

The tub was a pretty easy invention, all Blaine had to do was turn the taps and voila water came spurting out of the copper spout. He, of course, tested the water, twisting the taps until he was happy with the temperature and then plugged the drain, watching the basin start quickly filling. He quickly shucked his clothing, dropping both his borrowed pajamas and pants to the ground before stepping out of them. The shirt soon followed. Blaine picked up the pile of clothes and set them on the small stool that stood next to the sink, not wanting them to get wet. Hanging off the hook on the back of the door was a soft-looking pastel green towel and Blaine assumed that he would be able to use. Finding the soap sitting on a little nook built into the side of the tub Blaine stepped into the warm water and sat down, letting the water run for a few more minutes before turning off the taps and relaxing.

A soft knock at the door startled Blaine and he jerked up. The water splashed against the sides of the tub in one roaring movement and Blaine looked around for something to cover his indecency, afraid that someone could walk in, as in his haste to bathe, he had forgotten to lock the door.

"Blaine?" Kurt's voice traveled through the door and Blaine couldn't help but blush knowing that he was still naked and Kurt was only just beyond the door. Blaine answered, his voice a little squeaky. He could practically hear Kurt laughing at him.

"I brought down your razor. I figured you might need that."

"Uh…thanks. I – I'm in the bath is it okay if you just leave it out there?" There was a moment of pure silence and Blaine was sure that Kurt had just walked away.

"Y-yeah, su-sure." God, even Kurt stuttering was adorable. "I'll just set it down here."

There was a small clicking sound and the soft pitter-patter of feet as Kurt moved further away from the door. Blaine sighed in relief and reached out for the bar of soap. He cleaned himself quickly, washing his body and using a thick lather of suds to clean out all the gel that had started to congeal in his hair, before standing up and yanking the towel over. He stepped out onto a small woven bath mat, happy that he wouldn't have to clean the floor, and dried himself off. Blaine opened the door a crack, looking out while holding his towel tight around his waist. Just as Kurt had said, waiting outside the bathroom door was Blaine's razor.

Shaving wasn't a problem either, seeing as there were two men living in the household. Blaine had been lucky enough to find a half rolled tube of shaving cream and brush sitting on one of the shelves inside the medicine cabinet above the sink. He knew the brush was Kurt's because it was standard army issue with a small maker's seal etched into the bottom. In fact, he had one himself rolling around inside his bag upstairs. He figured Kurt wouldn't be to terribly upset if he borrowed it just this once.

It took longer than usual to shave off all the hair; a lot of stopping and turning on the sink to clean the blades and a lot of cursing every time he accidently nicked himself, but by the end Blaine felt more like himself then he had in a very long time. He was still pale and without all the hair to hide under, his face was thin with hollow looking cheeks and deep shadows under his eyes but a lot of that was due to lack of sunlight and hardy meals.

* * *

Blaine was lucky enough to make it up the stairs without anyone noticing him and he thanked his stars for that. Running into any member of Kurt's family while in this state of undress would have been mortifying. When he had first realized that he had forgotten to bring clothing with him, Blaine had chewed himself out, flustered and shaking he had decided that the only course of action was to race up the stairs and hope for the best. Reaching Kurt's door without being spotted by anyone else, Blaine let out a loud sigh of relief and knocked lightly, knowing it was the height of bad manners to just barge in unannounced.

"Come in."

Blaine opened the door and walked in. He was surprised to see Kurt almost fully dressed in a pair of pressed slacks and a clean undershirt, though his hair was still in a state of disarray, ironing a pair of Blaine's favourite trousers. Sitting on the bed was a steady growing pile of freshly pressed clothing that had been removed from Blaine's luggage.

"Sorry, I figured that you might…" Kurt's voice trailed off causing Blaine to look over at him. His jaw was slack and hanging open and his face was a pleasant shade of pink.

"Uh, Kurt, I don't think that it should be steaming like that." Blaine offered, nodding down at the small puff of smoke escaping from the base of the iron pressed against his pants leg. Kurt jerked it away and a muttered string of apologies, glancing down to make sure he hadn't scorched anything too badly. He hadn't and Blaine was thankful for that because those trousers made his ass look amazing.

"Kurt, are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, I'm fine… I guess I was just surprised." The German man answered placing the trousers down on top of the pile of Blaine's clothing. Blaine cocked an eyebrow, practically demanding that Kurt explain himself. Instead, Kurt fussed about gathering his own cloths to take down to the bathroom where he would primp himself before they left for their tour of the town.

"I think you should explain 'surprised' a little more clearly, you know, considering you almost burnt a hole through my clothes." Blaine started, interrupting himself quickly in order to add his thanks because "You really didn't have to do that." and "I really appreciate it."

"Well, it's just that I've never actually seen you like this. It's just a little strange. I mean, you look almost respectable." Kurt smiled jokingly at Blaine who rolled his eyes in turn.

"I'll have you know I'm a very respectable person." Kurt brushed past Blaine, snorting loudly in response, giving Blaine a very unimpressed look.

"Oh yeah, just like you make fantastic tea?"

He was rushing down the stairs snickering loudly to himself before Blaine had a chance to shoot back a witty retort. Instead, Blaine laughed to himself and moved to shut the door before padding over the pile of his clothing and getting dressed. In the end, he settled on wearing a dark pair of slacks with thick strapped suspenders and a slightly graying undershirt with a clean light blue button up. He threw on a light grey knit jumper that his mother had given Cooper for his fifteenth birthday. It had never quite fit the boy right and had been forced onto Blaine. It seemed to fit now that he was older and wider in the shoulders but at one time it had been the most hideous and lumpy thing Blaine had ever seen. None of that actually mattered because his thick pea coat would be hiding it from view.

* * *

By the time Blaine was dressed and making his way downstairs, after having thrown a little cash into a billfold in his pocket, Kurt was waiting patiently by the front door. He was already in his jacket and was shoving on some sweetly knitted mittens when he looked up and gave a low whistle.

"You clean up nicely." He announced before shoving his feet into some shiny black shoes. Blaine flushed slightly, feeling even more chuffed when he noticed the splotches red on the tips of Kurt's ears.

"What can I say?" Blaine shot back, grabbing his coat and sliding in on while simultaneously stepping into his shoes. Kurt grabbed his cane before walking out the door and down the stairs then out the front door with Blaine by his side.

Even though it was the midmorning and the sun was high in the sky, reflecting off snowy surfaces and briefly blinding anyone who walked by, the air was still chilly and their breath came out in small white puffs. Blaine shoved his hands deep into his pockets and looked over expectantly at Kurt.

"Well, since this is your home and you're the only one out of us that actually speaks German, I think you should lead the way."

Kurt scoffed. "Oh, you think so?"

Blaine nodded and Kurt smacked his shoulder playfully with the back of his hand.

"Alright then, follow me."

They walked side by side down the street, close enough that they didn't get in anybody's way but apart enough that no one could mistake them as lovers, which they weren't considering all they had done was kiss a few times. Quite a few times, with a little tongue in fact. And despite how much Blaine wanted them to be lovers, Kurt obviously wasn't ready for that step and it was also considered stupid if he marked them as being different by holding hands in public. It was illegal here in Germany, he knew, so instead of sulking over the fact that they could never have an out and out first date, Blaine tried to make the best of what they were doing.

Kurt dragged him all around central Düsseldorf, taking him into fantastic shops which sold metal trinkets and sweet candy. This is where they stopped to have a bite to eat at a small café around noon, drinking cups of hot tea and eating cold sandwiches, both of which Kurt had ordered and Blaine had paid for. Blaine tried to keep a low profile, avoiding talking to the people who had stopped them to ask Kurt to pass on their congratulations to his sister and brother-in-law.

Once or twice, a few passersby had stopped to give them confused looks as they yammered at each other in English but neither man seemed to take very much notice. They strolled down by the river side before Kurt decided that they should head home. His cheeks were a bright red and his eyes sparkled in the dying sunlight and not for the first time since they set out on their excursion did Blaine want to kiss him stupid, but he didn't, rather he quietly walked alongside Kurt all the way home.

"Thanks Kurt, for showing me around. I had a fantastic time."

The had reached the house and were standing just inside the front doorway of the main floor. Kurt smiled and reached out to brush away some snowflakes that had gotten caught on the shoulders of Blaine's wool coat.

"I did too, thanks for lunch. You really didn't have too." Kurt said, still flushed from the cold. Blaine smiled, wanting to reach out and cup the other man's face with his cold hands.

"Yes, I did, or else I wouldn't be able to…" He glanced around quickly making sure that no one was looking before taking a step closer to Kurt, who by now had arched one perfect eyebrow.

"Wouldn't be able to what?" He asked sceptically as Blaine finally reached out and set his hands on Kurt's shoulders. Everything around them seemed to stop and all that could be heard was the rustle of their jackets brushing against each other and the loud sound of them breathing.

"I wouldn't be able to do this." Blaine pressed his closed mouth against Kurt's for a heartbeat or two before pulling back and letting him go completely. Kurt seemed to turn an entirely new shade of pink as his wide eyes looked down into Blaine's shiny hazel ones. Blaine smiled and turned towards the stairs. "I hope that was a pretty decent first date." He called back over his shoulder.


End file.
